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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035971">Burn the Golden Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bekbek/pseuds/Bekbek'>Bekbek</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hobbit - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cabbage Patch Hobbits, Drakes and dragons, Grumpy Bilbo Baggins, Here there be dragons, Minor Angst, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Violence, Multi, Protective Bilbo Baggins, The Arkenstone is Bad News, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Time Travel Fix-It, baby dwarfs are pebbles, everyone is a numpty, please discuss your feelings, relationships to be added as I decide them, you cant just growl at problems</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:07:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,203</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035971</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bekbek/pseuds/Bekbek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Once there was a Hobbit who loved his family more than any jewel, coveted them more than any coin, mourned their loss like the greatest of wealth. He watched everything he worked for crumble, his friends and family die, then he went home with a broken heart and a fierce regret. When he died this brave, loyal, foolish Hobbit looked back at all the destruction and loss. he looked forwards into the face of Eternity... and demanded a chance to fix it. Infinity laughed, and for his audacity granted a boon to the beloved Hobbit. He was sent back, into a new body and life, with the memories to change everything.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Dwalin/Ori (Tolkien), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>266</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Once Upon a time...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>To say that Middle Earth held secrets was like saying that Men were plenty, of Elves fair. A gross understatement. Even when things seemed to be most clear and understood, or perhaps most then. Take the shire for example. A land of rolling green hills and sunlight but if one peered deeper they would find more. Smiling townsfolk shrewdly watched strangers, lovely gardens each had poison growing, everywhere wolf hide could be glimpsed. Many did not see the quiet strength of the Shire, or her people. Not Gandalf though. Oh he knew the secrets that hid, none more so than one Bilbo Baggins of Bag End. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf easily approached his old friend, idly smoking on a bench in his garden. The hobbit was looking well, seemingly perfectly content. He cracked an eye open as Gandalf pushed open the squeaky gate, hinges left intentionally rusted. Hazel eyes sparkled, a slight smile curling around the stem of his pipe. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, I thought it was polite of strangers to introduce themselves before swanning through closed doors.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf scoffed, gentle swatting at Bilbo’s knees with the butt of his staff. He rose, knocking out his pipe before drawing the Wizard into a tight hug. Gandalf gladly returned the favor, stooping to envelop him better. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What brings you to the Shire Gandalf, hopefully not trouble?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf smiled to himself, pleased as ever with Bilbo's clever mind. “Well old friend, I suppose I am looking for someone to share an Adventure.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The gold in Bilbo’s eyes flared, showing his interest though his face stayed politely bland. It was enough to prompt Gandalf to continue, “I can not tell you where to, or why, I must leave that to my companions I fear, but I can assure you that this would only change your life for the better.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo shook his head rapidly, “Oh no you don’t! I do not like the sound of that one bit. I am a respectable Hobbit now, and I would quite like to stay that way!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf poured every bit of his doubt into his gaze. They had been friends for much to long for him to believe such feeble excuses, it was insulting the Bilbo would even try. And he knew it too, based on the way he sank back into his bench. One hand rose to cover his eyes, the other fiddling with the dark iron stud at the tip of each ear. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose that you’d like for me to meet these ‘companions’ before I make any decision?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf couldn’t help his proud smile, so he didn’t even try. “I had rather thought it would be best to let them meet you in your own territory as it were.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo glared at him from behind his splayed fingers. He rose to his feet and dusted his hands before firmly pushing Gandalf out of his garden. The Wizard cheerfully allowed it, ignoring the quiet mutters of </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘meddling old codger’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>with the ease of practice. He hadn’t said no, which was practically a yes as far as Gandalf was concerned. There was to much curiosity held in that little body to deny flat out. And once Bilbo heard the company’s story Gandalf was sure that he would agree formally. He closed the gate behind him, a merry whistling tune already in mind when Bilbo called out, </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gandalf! How many will I be expected to feed?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“13!” he answered. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo nodded, one hand raising in a lazy farewell. His eyes had already turned towards the market, proper Hobbit raising demanding his attention. Gandalf turned away, already dreaming of the spread that was sure to be prepared. Bilbo would at least hear them out, and once he joined their quest he might just finally release all the rules he held himself too. The thought brought back Gandalf’s whistling mood, music his companion as he walked. Now it was just time to convince Thorin. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Meetings and Decisions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bilbo sighed, watching Gandalf walk away and not demanding more answers one of the hardest things he had done in at least two decades. He ran his tongue against his teeth, mouth full of the ever present taste of iron. Gandalf hadn’t come through the Shire since he last checked Bilbo's bindings. Yet he came again now, bearing please of adventure and smelling of the deepest stones. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dwarves. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And if Bilbo’s memory was still accurate it was time for the Company to come-a-seeking. Even though it had been over 200 years years since he had seen them (and nearly 300 for a select few) he still remembered. Maybe not perfectly, and surely time had worn away some of their edges, but he knew the Dwarrow. Well enough that he knew he could not allow history to repeat itself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He brushed his thumb along the teeth of the key he had lifted from Gandalf. It was definitely mithril, age and neglect tarnishing its surface. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The perfect trinket to earn some quick Dwarven respect. </span>
  </em>
  <span> He smirked to himself, collecting his pipe for a walk to the market. 13 dwarves were hungry creatures, and there would be little chance for such good food while on the road. Because of course Bilbo would be going, he just wanted to make Gandalf sweat a little first. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Serves the ornery badger right for once. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He whistled a merry tune he had heard from the Dwarven Armies, greeting his neighbors as he passed. Long exposure had made him deaf to their pointed comments, in his last life he had been odd true enough but in this one he was firmly eccentric. These days he didn’t bother to be anything else, after all no one wanted to quarrel with Mad Baggins. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Buying enough groceries to feed a small army raised more than a few eyebrows. Bilbo was not known for having visitors, and even less known for entertaining them properly. He just kept smiling, making his purchases quickly. He even managed to grab a few sweets just in case the prince’s decided to be extra troublesome. He was not above bribing them into peace. Once done he swung by the Gamgees home, humming when he saw their oldest Petunia tending to the garden. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My dear, I’m to expect company this evening and have quite run out of time to prepare. Would you mind running a letter to the Thain for me?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If possible her large eyes grew even wider, cheeks turning rosy. After a moment's hesitation she nodded, smiling brighter than summer sunshine. He handed over the letter he had first wrote over a year ago, unsure when Gandalf would finally show. Petunia took the letter like it was spun sugar, curtsying just a bit. Bilbo watched her run back into her parents Smial, unbound hair shining. He shook his head, silently laughing at silly faunts before making his own way home. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>At least this time Gandalf didn’t mark the door. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He had just gotten it painted, a lovely deep green to compliment the roaring golden Drakes painted on the jamb. He gently ran a thumb along the spiked ridge of one before continuing inside. He set the groceries to the side for the moment, taking a critical look at his home. Not much had changed between lives, there were more signs of his travels this time around, and less obvious signs of wealth. He did not have the patience to keep Lobelia out of them this time around, and better to prevent Nori. he could still remember his outrage when he realized the Dwarf had made off with his silver tea spoons. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He bustled through various rooms, gathering blankets and fluffing cushions. Last time there had hardly been room, let alone simple comforts. This time there would be no lack. He tossed the blankets out on the line to air out before nightfall. Winter had finally ended, but the nights still got chill and it would be nice to have fresh blankets. Simple cleaning done Bilbo checked the time and cursed. The evening was quickly passing and he needed to start cooking soon. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He entered the kitchen eyeing the groceries. It would be a thick and hearty beef stew for the main dish. With lots of vegetables and heavily spiced the Dwarven preference it would be perfect. Paired with various breads and other sides, no belly would go empty. Especially once he made a dessert of caramel cake. Plan made Bilbo nodded sharply and got to work. The only pause he allowed was to cut himself a thick slice of steak to sear for later. He didn’t eat much raw meat anymore, but he did prefer it much more rare than the dwarves typically went for. By the time the first knock came he was pulling the cheesy bread out of the over. Bilbo froze, a sweaty mess covered in flour and still wearing his day clothes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He squeaked at the second round of knocks, swearing the very floor rattled beneath their force. He called out to the dwarf, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dwalin maybe?  Or was Balin first? </span>
  </em>
  <span>And hurried to set the bread at the table. He did spare enough time to rinse his hands at least, even knowing that whoever was at the door was likely getting irritated with his dawdling. He reached the door, yanking it open as heavy fist met wood once more. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! My apologies master dwarf, I quite lost track of time while cooking.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dwalin, for it was him first, just grunted stepping through the open door. He raised an eyebrow when Bilbo stayed planted firmly in his path, displaying his most polite Baggins smile. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But Gandalf did say it would be 13 for dinner tonight, not just one?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He received a narrow eyed glare for his efforts and Bilbo let a hint of fang slip into his smile. He would be playing nice for the while, but he would not allow himself to be pushed around once more. Dwalin’s respect would be hard earned, but invaluable once given. Out of all of them he was one of the ones closest to Thorin, and able to whisper in his ear. Doing what he could to quickly befriend the dwarves would make Bilbo's life much more pleasant. He did not hold many fond memories of the beginning of their journey, long cold nights made only worse by being lonely. He knew much of that was from his own attitude back then, but also from the insular nature of dwarves. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We will be coming separately.” Dwalin eventually managed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo nodded, turning to lead the way to the dining room, “in that case, come right this way. Boots and large weapons to the left if you please. On your right is a basin you can use to rinse if you wish.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Large weapons?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo half turned, giving a pointed look to Dwalins large axe.  “I won’t ask you to fully disarm yourselves, just enough as to not cause more crowding.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He turned away, hiding his smug smirk at the considering look in the old warriors eyes. He knew that the dwarves had only ever been truly unarmed in the Mirkwood Prisons, and even then someone probably had something hidden away. Either way, even just stowing away the largest weapons would save on space. His home was meant for hobbit families, but even Bag End would run out of room eventually. He listened to the sound of Dwalin putting away his axe and removing his boots. He even heard the quiet sounds of water sloshing. This was the meeting where the Company would be trying to recruit Bilbo, he could probably have enforced a few stricter rules after all. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo gestured to the dining room where he had already set out some chicken and rice. It would be great for taking the edge off of hunger, at least until everyone gathered together. He went back to the kitchen, pulling the caramel cake out of the over. The sneaky part of him that hoarded memories knew that it was a favorite treat of the Kings. Yavana knew there would be little chance of good things for Thorin until after Erebor was reclaimed. He didn’t bother wasting time on thinking of the things that could go wrong once more. If he did that then he was sure to break down, and Bilbo did not have the time for such things. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His head jerked up at the sound of more knocking. He went to let Balin in, giving him the same instructions as his brother. Bilbo once more earned an odd look, but did not meet an argument. If anything Balin was easier to deal with, eager for food and to see his brother once more. Bilbo listened to their reunion as he reached Belladonna's Glory box. He kept a few of his more important trinkets in it, close to the door just in case he needed to grab them quickly. Sting in a simple leather case, a dagger made from a great fang, a small notebook to take travelling, and right on top a dark iron ring. He pulled it out and slipped it over his thumb, crinkling his nose at its burn. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For the 50 years Bilbo had been in the Shire his control had been near perfect. He had grown used to his hobbit form, and most days did not even think of his other. Yet seeing the dwarves, knowing what was coming… his control was running thin. And the worst was yet to come. The boys. Even after everything else, after the loss of everyone else, Fili and Kili were his biggest regrets. They had been so young, so vibrant, even as they were buried it had seemed like they could get right back up and start singing. The iron helped steady him, its frigid bite keeping him tethered in the present. At the sound of twin knocks Bilbo took a deep breath and plastered a false smile on his face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Welcome to Bag End!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The boys introduced themselves in the exact same synched bow, making tears well. Bilbo desperately kept up his shaky smile, frantically thinking of some kind of distraction. Thankfully Dwalin emerged and gave the Prince’s Bilbos orders. He wasn’t sure if the dwarf didn’t think the boys would listen, or something else but he appreciated the help. Bilbo nodded once, leaving the dwarves to it and took refuge in the pantry. He sank his teeth into his knuckles until the bones of his hand groaned in pain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Those boys… </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His love of children was well known in both lives. To see the ones he had already failed, so soon to the losses that had changed </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> in this life. Hot tears slid down his cheeks though he remained silent. At the sound of approaching footsteps Bilbo scrubbed at his face, hoping his eyes hadn't already gone red and swollen. Thankfully no one seemed to realize where he had vanished, letting him find his composure in peace. He pressed his fist to his chest and took one more deep breath before braving the dwarves once more. By the time the next round of knocks came he had finished all the food except ice the cake and cook his steak. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He called out for one of the others to ‘get the door if you please’ smiling at  their affirmative. The hobbit in Bilbo demanded he greet his guests, but the part of him that knew true hunger held fast prompting him to finish the feast. As it was he turned when he felt eyes on his back. He smiled at Ori and Bombur come to introduce themselves. He could just see the top of Nori’s hair over their shoulders, seemingly innocently investigating. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good evening master dwarves,” Bilbo gave them a nod as his hands were quite too occupied for a bow. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Both bowed back properly, introducing themselves easily. Bombur edged into the kitchen, sniffing unsubtly. Bible reigned in a chuckle before he offended the dwarf. He was probably stomping on his instincts as a cook to investigate just what Bilbo was making. Dwarves could be counted on for most things, but subtlety was not one of them. Or well… to anyone who wasn’t a dwarf at least. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I must say I’m not used to cooking for others, I just hope the meal pleases.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, if it tastes as delicious as it smells then I’m sure we will be more than happy!” Ori offered eagerly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At that Bilbo really did chuckle, giving the lad a gentle smile. He promptly went bright pink under his beard, mind catching up with his mouth. He nodded at Bomburs inquisitive look, stepping to the side to make room at the counter. The chef made a pleased hum at what he saw, letting Bilbo's spine relax for the first time all evening. And really, who could blame him for appreciating the praise. Bilbo quickly cut three small pieces of his favorite cheesy bread and passed them around with a wink. They were the first two to actively reach out to their host, they got preference. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once Bilbo made the final check, deeming everything ready he turned to his guests, “would you mind terribly if I asked for help setting the table.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The duo complied, each one grabbing one handle of the great soup pot. In any other time the pot would have been left hanging in the kitchen and Bilbo would cart bowls around himself. But with so many, and how he knew they could eat, it would be best to just take the whole thing. He couldn’t help fret at their rough walk, smiling to much would be a disaster. But they were careful, barely sloshing at all. As they entered the dining room every eye turned to lock on the food. Bilbo counted quickly, though he didn’t think Gandalf would have allowed him to miss greeting Thorin. As it was the Wizards eyebrows had disappeared into his hat, tossing pointed glances at the dwarves handling the food. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we just missing one more then?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Of course he knew Thorin was the last. One couldn’t help notice the King, and he was very much missing. The dwarves all nodded, casting nervous glances at the door. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How did I not notice that the last time?  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bilbo had been in quite the tizzy, but even then he had eyes. He sighed, just hoping he could keep impatient troublemaking fingers out of the food. He swatted at one such hand, channeling his mother to give Bofur a sten glare. The dwarf pouted and slunk to sit in a seat, casting longing looks at the food. Bilbo firmly ignored the looks Gandalf was giving him, leaving that issue for later. He once more recruited Ori and Bombur to help him carry dishes, setting out everything in fairly nice time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The last dish was placed but the time frantic knocking echoed over the various conversations. Bilbo was already turning by the time the sound caught up with his brain. The knocks were much too panicked and light to be a dwarf. He managed two steps before the door banged open, a small form flying in to crash against his chest. Amidst all the shouting he had time to glimpse Thorin standing awkwardly with one hand on his sword before his attention was diverted. His little intruder was Petunia, he had known that as soon as he saw her distinctive auburn curls. The question was what had happened to upset her so terribly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Petunia! What happened dear heart?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The faunt sniffled, pressing her face harder against his chest. He could feel the finebone trembling of her shoulders, and her fingers were firmly latched into his vest. Bilbo tried to pull away, just enough to see her face, but she refused to let him. He looked up to lock eyes with Thorin, lips pulling back over his teeth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If that arrogant dwarf hurt her I will string him up by his underdeveloped ankles. </span>
  </em>
  <span> Another approaching figure caught his attention, and drew the full weight of his ire. Lobelia, stalking up his garden path in one of her ugliest yellow evening dresses. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Her </span>
  </em>
  <span>presence certainly explained what had likely happened. The hobbit shoved past Thorin and into Bag End like it already belonged to her</span>
  <em>
    <span>. Even with her </span>
  </em>
  <span>diminutive size she somehow managed to look down her nose at all of them, the arrogance making a growl rumble through Bilbo’s chest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“S0 I see the little mute wasn’t lying about a caravan of Dwarves infiltrating the Shire.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had to drive his fangs into his own tongue to trap his snarl behind his teeth. He had made promises a long time ago to not leave his cousin a bloody smear through the center of Hobbiton. Didn’t mean he had to like it, especially when she insulted what was </span>
  <em>
    <span>his. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bilbo shifted Petunia out of his chest, letting her burrow into his side instead. He wrapped a casual arm around her shoulders, both to reassure the child and to ground himself. Thorin crept through the door, edged around Lobelia to stand with the rest of the dwarves. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lobelia, cousin, how pleasant it is to see you this evening.” Bilbo’s tone implied the direct opposite of his words. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just you wait until the Thain hears about this! You bar your own family from your doors, but let in all other riffraff.” the sneer in her voice had more than one hand reaching for a weapon, but thankfully no one reacted more. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, Grandfather quite knows about my guests tonight. Petunia just returned from carrying a letter to him after all.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lobelia’s fair face went crimson, lips pinching even further. It was a pity her attitude was so sour, she could have been so pretty otherwise. Petunia huffed into his ribs, finally pulling away enough to glare at Lobelia through one eye. Bilbo ran a hand through her hair, drawing Lobelia’s attention. Her eyes went hard as steel, jaw tipping up in her anger. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If you think I haven’t noticed what you’re trying to pull with the rabble-” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“qe ssej!” the Draconic ripped from his chest, full of hissing snarls. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lobelia reared back, color draining from her face even as her hands tightened over her parasol. She understood the language just as well as any other hobbit, and knew the rage that brought it out in someone. Bilbo’s hands clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. He stepped right into Lobelia’s personal space, leaving Petunia at his back. His cousin couldn’t bring herself to hold his gaze, looking at his chin instead. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You have overstepped my limits tonight, and often before. Remove yourself from my properties before I have the Bounders do it for you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lobelia swallowed nervously, eyes darting around the others as if they would help her. The longer she hesitated the more his patience stretched thin, lip curling to bare one thick canine. Finally she turned on one heel, nearly jogging with how fast she left the smial. He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it through his nose. Undoubtedly Lobelia would go straight to her husband, then the rest of her type around the Shire. They had been trying to dispose of Bilbo for long enough, and tonight's temper would just be another weight to sink him. It wouldn’t be his problem for much longer though. And his replacement had a wonderful head on her shoulders already, even being three years away from maturity. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well. Family is always so lovely isn’t it.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo shot Gandalf a dirty look before turning back to Petunia. It was to the Wizard he had promised to behave properly to Lobelia. Well, most of his promises to Gandalf in the end, but some were more annoying than others. He heard a few dwarves snort, but paid them no mind as he wrapped the faunt in his arms. She wasn’t shaking anymore, but dealing with his cousin could rattle even the toughest warrior. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“One day you will be allowed to put that witch in her place” he promised. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Petunia snorted loudly, stepping back enough to use her hands, ‘the day that happens I will likely run her out of the Shire.’ </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>More than one dwarf cursed at the use of sign language, causing Petunia's spine to lock tight. He shot them all a dirty glare, daring a single one to say anything. He remembered quite clearly that Bifur used </span>
  <span>iglishmêk, the dwarves were just arrogant enough to think they were the only ones who developed a silent language. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I would trade every coin I own to watch that spectacle.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Petunia huffed at him signing, ‘the Thain read your letter, and says that your business is your own. But if you’re going to do something foolish then you need to get your affairs in order first.’ </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo grumbled to himself before nodding, “I know, I’ve been working on it.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Petunia nodded, turning as if to leave. Bilbo's hand snapped out, landing heavily on her shoulder to stop her, “make yourself a plate first Pet, you have to be exhausted.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes went wide, darting to look questioningly at the dwarves before meeting his again. Hobbit manners had been drilled into her since she was born, and she knew when to not intrude on company. But Bilbo had always been known to stick his tongue out at tradition when it suited him. He guided her to the seat that would have been his, right at the head of the table and nodded. Slowly the dwarves shuffled into their seats, not a single word being said. Bilbo bustled into the kitchen, grabbing one of his large wooden bowls that was best for carrying food. He returned and ran an eye over the options before starting to fill the bowl. He heard a sharp intake of breath from Petunia and shot her a gentle smile. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once more he broke custom, but compared to what was coming it was nothing. First he scooped a large portion of green beans into the bowl, before topping with stew and the spicy chopped radishes that Petunia was known to love. She signed a shaky ‘thank you’ when he placed the bowl in front of her, eyes nearly falling out of her head. As she reached for her spoon he held up one hand, stopping her in the middle of the motion. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, I have something to give you.” Bilbo was pretty sure he heard Thorin growl impatiently, and certain Balin swatted him upside the head for it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo hurried to his room, aiming for the jewelry bod sitting at the edge of his desk. As a rule he never wore many jewels beyond his iron, but he did have a few pieces for special occasions. He wasn’t hunting for any of those tonight. No, what he wanted he had never been able to bear wearing. It sat lonely in its own niche, still as perfectly polished as the day the Thain had pressed it into his hands. Gold winked in the low light, sparkling rubies and emeralds making a motif of ivy. The ear cuff had been his mothers, crafted to clip over the upper ridge of pointed hobbit ears. In all of both of his lives Bilbo had never seen her without it, or wore it for himself. It was a visible sign of Baggins claiming, to be worn by the head of the family. And now it was time for it to be passed on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo made his way back to the dining room, nearly laughing at the increasingly grumpy dwarves. Petunia turned to look at him, eyes darting down to his precious cargo. She gasped loudly, both hands raising to cover her mouth. He moved to her side, struggling to not let the tears fall from his eyes. The dwarves all shifted, trying to peer around each other. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“geou wux clax coi?” bilbo near whispered it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Petunia gave a full bodied flinch, eyes never having left the gold. Her eyes jerked to meet his, silver lining them before falling. His heart stuttered in his chest as she thought. She had full power to reject the offer, and he wouldn’t even blame her. Being head of such a large and prominent house would not be easy. Finally her hand snapped out, wrapping around her spoon and aggressively shoveling a spoonful of food into her mouth. She swallowed without chewing then launched out of her seat and into his open arms. Bilbo huffed out a laugh, lifting the faunt enough to spin around once. She scruffed the side of her head against his, hair catching in his studs. When Petunia stepped back she was smiling wide enough that it looked like it should have hurt. She slid into a deep curtsy, posture poised and perfect. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>By the time she had bobbed back upright Bilbo had successfully blinked away his tears. He once more wrapped Petunia in a hug, gently butting the side of his head against hers. Not quite the dwarven head knocks, but the same idea. She gathered her bowl in one hand, the other still tightly clamped around the ear cuff. She would not actually wear it until she stepped into her duties, which would be the next day. Not that she, or anyone but the Thain knew that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Bilbo walked her to the door, watching until she made it to the gate before calling out, “send the Gaffer my way, we have things to discuss!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One hand raised in affirmative, then she was gone. Bilbo sighed silently, and turned back to the dining room. He silently gathered bowls for everyone, passing them around as he chewed on the edge of his lip. Where he would gladly break many of the silent hobbit rules he would not be fixing plates for the dwarves. Not only did he not know their tastes well enough, he didn’t count himself their kin just yet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s going to be a fun conversation.”  Gandalf’s dry observation earned him a glare from Bilbo. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>trying to wait, until some meddling nuisance came dragging trouble to my door.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Wizard just chuckled and pulled a plate of potatoes to him. At his motion the dwarves fairly lunged for the food, forks flashing in the light. Bilbo settled back into his seat, spooning himself a heaping pile of greens. The food had gone a bit cool, but there was no grumbling as it got shoveled into faces. Bits went flying, and laughter reigned freely. He watched quietly, just doing his best to stay out of the way. Every now and then he felt eyes locked onto him, but everyone seemed content to let food be eaten before conversation of the journey began. At one point Balin moved seats, replacing Dori and Bilbo’s left. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The lovely lass your Betrothed?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo promptly choked on his mouthful of steak, nearly spitting it in his shock. He frantically shook his head hard enough for his curls to shift, signing a quick NO. Gandalf the useless, just laughed at him, sipping his wine and offering no explanation. Bilbo forced down his food, washing it down with his own swig of ale to clear his pipes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My heir rather!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The kindly advisor's eyebrows raised, “Gandalf assured us that there was no family to sway your decision.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What an odd thing to say. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bilbo hoped his confusion didn’t show too clearly on his face as he answered, “Well I don’t have any family left. That is why Petunia is written as my heir, she would step up as head of Bag End if something ever happened to me.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Balin nodded sagely, seeming accepting the simple explanation as he filled his bowl again. Bilbo was very pleased with how quickly the food was vanishing. Very little would be left, even the bits thrown between dwarves carefully caught and eaten. He would bring out the cake soon, and after they would hopefully turn to business. He hoped to get some decent sleep, knowing they would be leaving with dawns early light, and Bilbo wished to cook breakfast first. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She seemed young, would it not go to anyone else before her?” Ori asked from Bilbo’s other side. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He turned to the young dwarf, always eager to talk about shire matters, “rightfully it would go to my cousin Otho, husband to the delightful Lobelia you met earlier,” Ori’s face scrunched in distaste and Bilbo nodded right along, “however I would rather see the Baggins line end before I handed the title to </span>
  <em>
    <span>them, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and so it will go to who I wish as long as my name is Baggins. To death and beyond.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ori nodded, seemingly fascinated enough to forget his food until Nori chided him softly. Bilbo followed the movement, finishing off his steak in just a few more bites. It had gained more than one disgust curled lip from the dwarves, insides still red and juicy. No one had complained about there not being enough to share for some reason. Bilbo wiped his mouth with his napkin and rose. The dwarves all froze, looking at him with wide eyes and Bilbo had to hold in his mirth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to fetch dessert, please finish your plates.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The eating sped anew, many a dwarrow looking starry eyed at thought of sweets. Only Thorin scowled, and Bilbo was quite convinced he had been born that way. Where he did treasure the faint memories of the King's rare toothy grins he knew that they would be rare, and seldom directed at the lowly hobbit burglar. He pressed his knuckles to the key Bilbo wore under his shirt, warm from his body heat. If Gandalf had noticed it was missing then he had stayed silent on the matter. Perhaps he shared Bilbo’s thought process of an early worth proving. Or he had just not checked his pockets. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo lifted the large cake, now perfectly cooled and iced as perfectly as he could manage. It would be demolished soon, but sometimes presentation mattered. He was rather pleased with how it had turned out, and had even taken the time to place a small cluster of fondant flowers on each corner. Belladonna, since he was the sentimental sort. If nothing else they would make Gandalf smile at the memory of the lively hobbitlass. He carried the cake to the table, dodging curious hands. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Caramel cake!” Kili practically bounced out of his seat in his excitement. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo had to clamp down on the urge to ruffle the dwarves hair. It would not be appreciated, and might even get a few blades made friendly with his personal space. As it was he just smiled and handed Kili a dessert plate first. His eyes lit up, cutting a large corner piece for himself. Fili tried to steal a bite as Bilbo finished passing out the plates only to get a knife stuck between his fingers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Boys!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No knives at the table!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo and Thorin spoke at the same time, admonishment layering over each other. The boys froze, flashing each other guilty glances before grimacing. Bilbo tried to shoot a smile at Thorin, but only received a frosty glare. If anything it seemed like the King didn’t appreciate that someone else had gotten onto his nephews. It even seemed like he wouldn’t eat any of the cake, even with it being his favorite. At least until Fili handed him a piece and stole his empty plate for himself. Dessert passed quickly, no food flying as everyone jealousy guarded their prizes. More than one wandering fork got shoved away, quiet curses being hissed. Only once the last fork was set to the side did Thorin sigh heavily. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I will not sugar coat the truth my friends. I have indeed heard back from the council, and they denied my request for support.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Every other dwarf leapt to their feet, roaring their rage loud enough to please any great dragon. Bilbo ducked swinging elbows and dodged flinging hands, moving around the room to lean against Gandalf’s side. The wizard patted him on the head absently, attention firmly locked on the arguing dwarves. Bilbo sneakily lifted the mithril key out from under his shirt, letting it hang level with his waistcoat. It wasn’t until Thorin roared an order in Khudzul that they quieted slightly. There was still plenty of angry muttering, but at least Bilbo could hear the knocking at the door. He perked up, realizing that it had to be Hamfast. He waved for the dwarves to continue their discussion and went to join his friend outside. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo swung open the door, a genuine smile on his face. Only for it to slide away at the anger on his friends face. Bilbo nearly stepped back in his surprise, only the sound of arguing dwarves keeping him rooted in place. He cautiously stepped outside, softly closing the door behind him. He nodded towards the bench, leading the disturbingly silent Hamfast to have a seat. They did, each tilting their heads back to observe the stars. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Master Baggins, tell me. How old do ya’ think my daughter is?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah. that’s why he’s so upset. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Unless I have lost track of years, Pet should be 27 in a few weeks.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hamfast hummed, still not looking at Bilbo. “Yes that’s right. Still a faunt, not hitting maturity for another three years. So what I want to know, is why she came home with the Baggins title.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hamfast had never taken such a short tone with him, sounding properly angry. Nearly rude even, something the Gaffer had never tried before. Bilbo sighed, fiddling with the ring around his thumb. He took a few moments to gather his thoughts, ignoring the glare directed at the side of his head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m leaving tomorrow. These dwarves are asking for me to join on their quest, and I plan to agree.”  Bilbo finally turned to look at one of his oldest friends, taking in the shock on his face, “I know how young she is, but she is one of the most brilliant faunts I know. I truly trust that Petunia will be able to handle the responsibility and do wonderfully.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hamfast nodded slowly, eyes heavy as he thought. “You know, when I asked you to take Pet as your heir I knew that she would step up eventually. But I didn’t think it would be so soon.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo nodded in agreement, letting the silence stretch. He could just hear the Dwarves singing, making his heart ache with longing. It was a beautiful song, mournful and soothing. Thorin’s deep voice was exactly as Bilbo remembered. When a hand landed on his shoulder he couldn’t help his startled snarl. Thankfully Hamfast was quite used to Bilbo’s eccentricity, and let the faux-pas pass. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I will miss you my friend, but you have been gazing East for as long as I have known you.”  Hamfast paused to give him a sad smile, “Just promise me that you will do your best to return to us ok?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo nodded mutely, blinking rapidly as Hamfast rose to his feet and offered him a hand. They face each other no hesitation before embracing. Not all hobbits were quite so physical, but Bilbo craved contact. Hamfast made a point to rub the sides of their heads, before stepping back and wiping at his eyes. He left the garden, making his way home with his hands tucked into his waistband. Bilbo turned his gaze back to the stars, silently praying that he was making the best choice before heading back inside. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translations of Draconic; </p>
<p>Be silent! </p>
<p>Will you take it? </p>
<p>~~~</p>
<p>hello! I hope yall are enjoying! if you are please be sure to leave kudos or comments.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Realizations and Regrets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Author is Tired. In Which the Author.... looked at the vaguely angelic evil fighting wizard and decided he was a petty grandpa. why is it so late. sleeeeeeeeeeeeeep. every comment is a glass of water to your local dehydrated beks ok goodnight</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Bilbo was old, there was no denying that fact anymore. He had lived through a whole life as a hobbit, and nearly an extra 200 years in this life. And yet he was still struck dumb and silent when he entered his own smial and found Thorin standing beside Gandalf, glaring down at him with his arms crossed. In fact he only held in a squeak by the merit of his own shock. The other dwarves had all gone silent also, Bilbo noted that the table had already been cleared. The part of him that was all claws and teeth wanted to snarl as the King circled round him, eyes cold as ice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Axe or sword?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“B-beg your pardon?” Bilbo stuttered as memory slammed through him, the knowledge that he had had this exact conversation before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To fight with, do you prefer the axe or sword?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bilbo drew himself up as tall as he could, even knowing damn well that he was still the shortest one in the building. Anger writhed through his gut, echoing in his voice with the trace of a growl. He waited until Thorin had come back around to face him, giving the King the most disdainful look he could manage when he would much prefer to bare a fang. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m quite skilled at Conkers if you must know.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thorin chuckled darkly, turning back to his company, “looks more like a grocer than a burglar to me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few strained laughs came from then, though Bilbo was quite relieved that most of them just looked uncomfortable. They knew better than to insult their host at least, shame that someone who’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>whole purpose </span>
  </em>
  <span>was to run a kingdom had such appalling manners. Though by the end of their original journey it had seemed like he was better trained. As it was, Bilbo just bared his teeth at the Kings back. The insult of showing someone your back, someone you just angered, had Balin pressing his lips together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do prefer knives in most cases,”  Thorin turned, shock coloring his face and Bilbo smiled his most Baggins smile before continuing, “Poison tends to be awfully fun too.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every single dwarf blanched, many a hand drifitng to bellies or hidden weapons. Bilbo ignored them, deftly stepping around the stunned King and strolling to Gandalfs side. He lifted the Mithril key from around his neck, hearing a muttered curse from Dwalin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Interesting, I wonder if he knows what it is and how. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Wizard raised an eyebrow in question and Bilbo just shrugged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You brought Mithril into my home and didn’t expect me to knick it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He just huffed, snagging the delicate chain to lift the key high. Bilbo turned to run a cool eye over the dwarves. They still hadn’t moved, openly gaping at him now. He didn’t even try to stop the corner of his mouth from curling up at their expressions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll shelter your companions for the night, and see you off in the morning.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gandalf opened his mouth, surely to protest before Bilbo held up a warning hand, “I would do many things for you old friend, but I will not be disrespected in my own home. I am the Baggins of Bag End, not some snivelling youth to be ordered about.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That last part was aimed solely at one certain dwarf, who at least had the decency to seem confused. It might have been paired with a healthy dose of anger, but Bilbo could guess that he was not used to being so plainly dismissed. He stalked for his bedroom, giving those in his path a slight glare. Only little Ori was exempt, and only because he already looked close to tears. With a final ‘stuff it with sunflowers’ tossed over his shoulder to a still splutting Gandalf he slammed the door behind him. Bilbo leant back against the thick wood, keen hearing just barely catching the murmurs from the dwarves. Oh he was plenty angry with them, but he knew he would still be going with them tomorrow. Even if just to see the looks of their faces when he showed back up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pushed away from the steadying door and cast a critical glance around his room. Thankfully, most the things he needed to pack were already together, and the rest he could gather after the dwarves slept. It would be a good chance to practice how quiet he could be after so long with little practice. He could guess Gandalf would be coming to speak to him at some point, attempt to convince him to join the company. But until then he had business to complete. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The silence that echoed through the surprisingly fierce little Halflings burrow lasted only long enough for Tharukun to growl “Thorin Oakensheild I expected better of you!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thorin drew himself tall, falling back on years of pride and training to sneer at the meddling wizard. Of course not even his best glare could dissuade the wizard, and the power that crackled the room had Thorin dropping his chin right back into his chest. Some long buried instinct nearly bleated in terror, recognizing true anger from Gandalf for the first time. The sound of a blade being slowly drawn steadied him, eyes darting over to a glowering Dwalin. Every one had caught the sound or motion, dwarves sliding into ready stances and Gandalf just glaring. His fist was wrapped tight around whatever the Halfling had given him, the mention of Mithril making many ears perk up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bilbo Baggins is one of very few beings I would trust this journey to, and the only one who would face a Dragon for people he doesn’t claim. Yet you have firmly turned him away within a handful of words.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I did not ask f0r some soft little halfling to join our quest! You promised me a burglar, not someone who looks as if he has never known a moment of hardship.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The crystal at the top of Gandalf's staff pulsed with power, light filling the small room before it dimmed. The Wizard visibly steeled himself, tucking his anger away for the moment. Thorin locked his spine, not willing to lower his head again. Gandalf withdrew an aged piece of parchment from one of his many pockets, setting it and the supposedly Mithril key on the table. Thorin stepped forwards at his pointed look, unfolding the parchment to see what was so important about it. Familiar handwriting nearly punched the air from his chest, it had been years but he could recognize his Grandmother's hand as easily as his own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where did you get this?” Thorin ignored the rasp of tears in his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your father gifted it to me for safe keeping, long before the fall of Erebor. It is only now that it felt appropriate to return it to the Line of Durin.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thorin nearly growled at the disrespect, the map was by all rights </span>
  <em>
    <span>his, </span>
  </em>
  <span>one of the very few remaining relics of his family. He ran shaking fingers along the carefully traced lines of the lonely mountain. He ran his thumbnail along a faint line, directions stretching across the lands. Leading… Leading to a seemingly blank space on the side of the Mountain. Distant memories of sitting on his grandmother's lap rose, the songs she would sing of hidden passes carved as her wedding present. And if this truly was her map, and if those songs had ever had meaning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There's a passage.” Thorin whispered his realization, hearing it murmured by his company at his sides. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked up at Gandalf, not failing to see the way his ancient eyes softened just a fraction, “Yes, I believe so too. There's magic in the map, knowledge that has been lost to me though I believe I know who could read it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thorin pulled air through his teeth, already dreading what he thought. “Your Baggins?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gandalf huffed, lips twitching in a brief smile, “no, not Bilbo unless he has taken a rather long sabbatical in Rivendell.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was… almost the worser option. Thorin was not the only one who growled about Elves. Not even Gandalf's placating gesture could halt their noise from building. Their host did not peep his upturned nose through his door though, and Balin caught Thorin searching one grey brow raising. Thorin shook his head minutely, scooping the map and key into his reach. The map went into his vest pocket, protected by armor and right above his heart. He paused to inspect the key, it was indeed Mithril and still warm with body heat. He firmly ignored the heat as he draped it around his own neck, careful not to catch any hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That will be a discussion we can have later, for now everyone needs to try and get some rest. We will be having an early start in the morning.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone grumbled, but followed Thorin's command. They parted to find wherever they could fit, family groups sticking close together. He was just about to follow his nephews, eager for rest if not sleep, when Balin cleared his throat loudly. Thorin glanced at his advisor, that hard gaze practically guaranteed Thorin wouldn’t be getting rest for a few more hours at least. He followed Balin into a cozy study, filled with books and paper works. Thorin didn’t even have the time to glance at the maps pinned to the walls before Balin commanded his attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So. Which of the Halflings laid you on your ass?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thorin gaped like a fish, mouth opening and closing. Out of all the things he had been prepared to get scolded for, that had not been one of them. If anything he thought he was being </span>
  <em>
    <span>subtle. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Though apparently not doing a very good job of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t try that with me, you’re doing an even worse job of hiding it than Dwalin,” at that Thorin cringed, how either of the older Ri brothers hadn’t caught on was a true mystery, “and I know it’s not anyone in the company, so which of the Halflings is your One? Master Baggins, or the Lass?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It could be someone in the Company,” Thorin muttered, knowing just how petluntent he sounded, at Balin's glare he ducked his head, answering through his hair, “Master Baggins.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And oh how it was the sweetest hurt to admit. The second the door had opened, Baggins’ attention latched on the distraught Pebble Thorin had been lost. He had never thought his heart would be claimed by a non-dwarf, but it seemed like species didn’t matter in the end. From the caramel curls just brushing his shoulders, to the warm hazel eyes, perfectly upturned nose, and lengths of soft skin, every part of him seemed to be designed to tempt Thorin. And then they opened their mouths. Thorin had never been known to think before he spoke, or handle surprises well. It seemed like his One had a tongue of razor wire, more willing to spit venom than any viper. It was a disaster waiting to happen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the issue of his rather annoying cousin and seeming Heir, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the relief Thorin had felt at the claim ashamed him deeply, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he had plenty of time to watch his One. Saw that full mouth stretch in a feral barring of the teeth. Nearly choked at the sight of one delicately pointed ear, pierced through with dark metal. Had to check his anger with how friendly the Halfling already seemed with half the company, had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>choke </span>
  </em>
  <span>his anger when the Wizard had slid a proprietary hand through his hair. Maybe it wasn’t surprising Balin had caught him out in the end. Thorin peeped through the curtain of his hair, just catching the exasperated look Balin was giving him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well that explains why you were so rude to the lad, I had quite thought you had forgotten the manners I worked so hard to train into you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thorin huffed, a small part of him relaxing at Balin's acceptance. “I did not think I was being rude.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Balin groaned deeply, looking up and mouthing a silent prayer, “Thorin, you know I love and respect you like no other, but you were being a right ass.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once more Thorin gaped at his friend, really cementing that fish impression. For as much as he hadn’t worn the crown Balin very rarely felt the need to treat him like a common lad caught causing trouble. The plain words really proved how serious he was being, which meant Thorin had more than earned them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And another thing,”  Thorin held in a groan, already knowing he wouldn’t like what was coming, “I do believe Master Baggins is a Lord. His cousin mentioned a Thain, who is the King of the Shire, and Master Baggins called him Grandfather. Plus the way he introduced himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>The </span>
  </em>
  <span>Baggins of Bag End.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thorin let his head fall forwards, thunking off the solid wooden desk he had collapsed next to. He had plenty of experience dealing with irate Lords, especially when he had been the one to cause their anger. To pair that with the Wizard seeming so convinced they needed the Halfling, and he could just see the amount of groveling in his future. That wasn’t even bringing up the matter of being One’s. Actually, Thorin's heart fairly stopped in his chest, a sudden thought filling his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Balin… did Master Baggins seem to react to you like someone who had just met his One?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Balin sucked air through his teeth, face creasing as he thought. Ever so slowly he shook his head no, causing the crack in Thorin's heart to cleave wider. He pressed his forehead harder against the smooth wood, until he imagined the grain would be embedded into his skin. Master Baggins wore his emotions all over his face, not seeming to care for covering them. If even keen eyed Balin hadn’t noticed a reaction then there wasn’t one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So. We have a disgruntled Halfling Lord to convince to join us, matters of the heart to discover, Elves to read a secret magic map, and a Dragon to deal with.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thorin had to resist smacking his head off the desk once more. Balin's voice was the epitome of dry, and when he put their issues into context their mission seemed truly impossible. He was on the verge of calling it off, might have if that didn’t mean watching his siblings and nephews continue to grovel until they wasted to nothing. As it was, the whole ordeal just seemed so </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Thorin was so underprepared. A hand brushing his hair made him tense, a brief stroke from his crown to his nape. He turned his head enough to peek up at Balin, giving Thorin his most gentle look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get some rest lad, we will think more clearly in the morning.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thorin nodded, staying in the spot he had claimed as Balin creaked to his feet. The advisor just gave him another one of those soft looks before making his way out of the study. Thorin was already starting to drift off when Balin gave him one last bit of advice, humor rife in his voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And let me sooth the ruffle feathers in the morning, you can work on wooing later.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thorin drifted off with a faint smile on his face, content with the idea of his trusted friends' support. If he just barely heard the edge of a startled shout it wasn’t enough to rouse him from his sudden exhaustion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>````</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next morning Thorin was not awoken by the sounds of the morning bells, or even by his rowdy nephews launching themselves into his tiny bed. No, he woke to the smell of bacon. His first thought was which one of his foolhardy family had done something ridiculous to get extra rations. It took him a few seconds longer to fully wake, to remember what had happened the night before. He peeled the skin of his cheek off the desk, running careful fingers along the edge of a blanket draped over him. Balin must have done it before leaving, though Thorin's neck would have appreciated a pillow more. He rose, cracking his back sharply before following his nose to the kitchen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Thorin had been expecting Master Baggins to be in the kitchen preparing another delicious meal he would have been sorely disappointed. He resolutely squashed the feeling, managing a nod to the same lass from the night before. This morning her auburn curls were braided simply down her back, Thorin squinted at the sight of thorny ivy woven into the braids. No dwarf would have tried such things, but she wore them as easily as ribbons. She moved to the side, revealing a truly tiny lad sitting on the counter, swinging his bare feet to an unheard rhythm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good morning! Take a seat if you wish, Pet will be done in just a few more minutes.” the lad chirped brightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thorin grunted, taking a place besides a half asleep Bombur. Their chef was looking at the stove sadly, surely wishing to be on his feet helping. Though it seemed the Lass had it under control, moving around the kitchen as if it were her own. He ran a glance around the dwarves already awake, or at least conscious enough to rise for food. So far he was just missing his nephews and Ori. He couldn’t fault the youngest of their group for trying to get as much rest as possible, Thorin knew that they were not used to the harshness of the road quite yet. He would admit to spoiling the lads, and was certain the Ri brothers were just as bad. He pulled an aromatic pot of kaffe to his side, mixing in sugar to his preference and sipping with a happy sigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boys finally roused themselves when the Lass sent her young charge to go find them, childish sounds of delight trailing in his wake. Thorin snorted to himself, well acquainted to that kind of wakeup call. And when Fili and Kili stumbled in, sleep mussed and leaning against each other he did not pity them one bit. Ori looked rather awake, braids already neatened and clothes uncreased. It seemed he hadn’t been still asleep after all, likely just using the time to himself. Thorin noted Dwalins lingering stare and his smile in his drink, now if only his own One would pop up. Nearly as if the thought had summoned him the door opened, though it was only Gandalf ducking inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were quite right Petunia, the Bounders were close by last night but it seems like they’ve already gone.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Lass’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>Madam Petunia’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>face fell, but she nodded once sending Gandalf a small smile. She twisted to sign to the young lad, who Thorin noticed was staring with wide eyes at a barely coherent Dwalin. Of course the child would notice the largest of all of them, and most obviously tattood. He expected the boy to launch into questions, but instead he went to the Madams side. Leaving the grumpy Dwalin to his own warm mug. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you Master Wizard, Bilbo had said as much but we were curious on how close they came.” the lad recited watching the Madams hands twist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thorin nodded to himself, realizing that was likely the reason the boy was there, as a translator. He could catch a few of the signs, close enough to what the dwarves used but running at double the speed. He had to wonder if it was an injury that led to her disability, for she had no obvious scars and seemed to be able to hear fine. But as much as Balin teased him about manners even Thorin knew better than to ask. And with the gentle star eyes Bifur was giving the children it was likely they would have someone else to talk to anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah speaking of, I was rather hoping I could speak to Master Baggins this morning.”  Balin positively beamed at the pebbles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lads face creased in confusion, nose twisting adorably. Thorin was sure he wasn’t the only one who sighed quietly. The lad twisted back around to look at the Madam before turning to the dwarves and looking at them like they were missing something obvious. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But… you are speaking to Master Baggins? She’s right here?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Balin nearly spluttered into his tea, sound echoed by a few other snorts. The lass rolled her eyes, whistling lightly to catch everyone's attention. She signed some more with those quick movements making the boy give a soft ‘Oh’ in understanding once done. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I get it! No, you want Bilbo, but he’s already gone off for the day with his business.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dwarves stared at the pair uncomprehendingly for a few seconds before noise burst out. Questions of if he would be joining them, why he had left so early, and one confused but aren't you a miss. That last one made the lass laugh at least, head tilted back in silent noise. The lad had darted to the pantry, bringing out rolls and such in the chaos. As he came back his eyes flitted about, shoulders hunching higher as he came close to the dwarves. Thorin tried to be slow and gentle in taking the platter, but the lad still scuttled away as soon as it was out of his grasp, wide eyes watching them all carefully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was all the Company got out of the Halflings, the lass had turned her attention back to the food, moving too quickly to sign much more than what seemed like a few commands to the lad. He no longer seemed so enamored with them, speeding in and out of reach. He didn’t truly seem afraid, which would have broken more than a few dwarven hearts, just cautious. Once all the food was settled the two halflings sat at the wizards side, Thorin noticed that the two waited until the lass had taken the first bite before following, either out of tradition or respect he wasn’t sure. She was calling herself Master, though being underage, a lass, and Master Bilbo claiming the title only the night before. It was entirely too early for such mysteries though, and Thorin just tucked into his breakfast leaving Halfling drama for later. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time all the food had been cleared to crumbs the sun was already rising over the trees. Thorin was itching to be along, but Master Bilbo had not yet shown. He lingered for as long as possible, until even the most unobservent dwarves were shooting him concerned glances. At that point he sighed, ignoring the strain in his chest as he addressed the company. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It seems like Master Baggins has chosen not to join us after all, we must be on our way.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lad snorted at his words, but kept his attention on moving his stack of dishes. When they had offered to help the offended look he had given them had kept everyone in their seats, shifting at being waited upon. If the Halflings had noticed they hadn’t said anything, just efficiently cleaning up and distributing a napkin covered lump to each dwarf. When Thorin had peaked into his he had found four rolls, stuffed with what looked to be meat and veggies. A meal for on the road, and one he knew they would greatly appreciate. Still, when he said as much the lass had given him a look of such vitriol that his teeth had fairly snapped together. She was constantly giving him such looks, apparently having decided that she didn’t like him much. Thorin was ignoring it, better than reacting negatively at least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At his announcement the dwarves quickly gathered their things. Not a single thing would be left behind, family units helping pull together armor and weapons getting distributed. By the time they were done the burrow looked like there had never been thirteen rowdy dwarves inside. Thorin tossed his cloak around his shoulders, double checking that the boys were ready to go. Fili had a handful of Kilis hair, trying it in a loose braid quickly. It was known that Kili preferred to wear his hair mostly loose, but in riding it was best contained no matter how he grumbled. As one the boys turned to look at him, nodding once satisfied as if </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>were the troublesome pebble in need of grooming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They left, the halfling duo watching them go hand in hand, not offering even a wave. Thorin did his best to ignore the sting, and also Gandalf glaring. The Wizard hadn't let up a single moment, and it was bad enough that Dwalin had taken to walking between them with a hand on his blade. Only once did they hear a raised voice, shrill shrieking coming from the same Halfling woman from the night before. She was screeching up a storm, tugging the elbow of a rather elderly Halfling who cheerily waved at them. It at least entertained them for a few minutes until they left the small village before heading back into Bree. they would be gathering their ponies and then on their way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thorin would go to his grave denying how his heart swooped once they reached the Green Dragon. For there was an already familiar form, laughing with another dark hair Halfling. Master Baggins turned their way, smiling like the sun itself. His hair was braided back, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and that definitely didn't raise any funny feeling in Thorin's belly, </span>
  </em>
  <span>ivy twisting around his crown and through the plaits much like his heirs. He even had a small sword strapped to his hip, and a dagger on his thigh. Really, who could blame Thorin’s breathy laugh, though thankfully only Dwalin seemed to hear it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh there you are! Dwarves are quite slow moving in the morning.” Master Baggins greeted them brightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seemed like Gandalf would rake his fingers through the Halflings hair, hand batted away with a hiss of thorns. He practically skipped alongside them, handing Balin the contract rolled neatly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We will need to work on that before I sign anything, but it seems promising enough.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Balin raised an eyebrow, but took the contract and tucked it into his saddle bags to deal with later. Thorin wanted to smile, wanted to sing, but he shoved all of that behind a mask as he came behind the halfling. He wasn’t sure how successful he was until the light in Master Baggins eyes guttered slightly, smile becoming a touch forced. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You will be coming then?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At his nod Thorin just grunted, stalking for the stables before he did something ridiculous. Like see how fragile those tempting wrists were, or tug at the ivy in his hair. He clearly heard Dwalin call him something quite rude in Kudzhal, but kept his stride tight and even. It would not do to get attached yet, not when the Halfling would likely leave halfway into the quest. He seemed much too soft for anything else. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thorin you Numpty. </p><p>if yall wanna get an invite to my discord chat where we discuss future chapters, prompts, and general petty southerner chaos lemme know!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. First Steps</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No beta here, We die like Durins sons....... bad joke -_- join me at https://discord.gg/8bBqnwS to yell at me for it :}</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bilbo sat straight up in bed, one hand smothering the shout in his chest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It was just a dream. </span>
  </em>
  <span>One of his worst group of nightmares, but little more than a memory anyway. He buried his face in his pillow, inhaling the scent of his own soap to try and scrub bitter smoke from his lungs. He hadn’t slept much more than an hour, but he knew that trying again would lead to nothing. He left the warm safety of bed, walking a quick circle of his room just to be sure there was nothing he was forgetting. Everything that he could already pack as gathered, his weapons and remaining gear was in his mother's Glory Box. Bilbo crept to the door, pressing his ear flat against it and listening hard. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t hear anything, not even the snoring of the dwarves. Easing the door open a crack let him peer through, just catching sight of Balin retreating into one of the guest rooms. Bilbo slowly opened the door fully, more than prepared to dart back into safety if needed. Yet no one seemed to be up and about any longer, and he could now hear the sounds of the company sleeping soundly. He tiptoed out of the room, feet thankfully silent on the cool wooden floors. He wanted to gather an extra set of pens and ink to bring with them from the study, but when he pushed the door open he nearly squeaked at a sleeping Thorin. The King was slumped over the desk, head pillowed on one hand. Bilbo almost crept right back out, but it was starting to get chilly and he hadn’t built the fire up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo only hesitated long enough for Thorin to shift slightly, a low mumble making its way free. His heart fairly melted, making his decision for him. He snuck back to his own room, gathering the quilt his mother had made him as a faunt. It was soft and warm, Bilbo imagined he could still smell her on it even after so many years. He went back to the study, gently draping the blanket across Thorin’s shoulders. He was trying to be so gentle that his fingers just barely brushed Thorin's bare wrist. The shocks racing up his arm made Bilbo snarl aloud, stumbling back a half step in shock. The feeling made him think of sun warmed rocks, his mother grooming him, the feeling of a full belly and safety. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The feeling of a Mate. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo’s breath whistled through his teeth, coming faster and faster. He darted forwards, pressing the flat of his palm against Thorin’s arm. There was no denying that feeling, not even as it faded into the background of his mind. Thorin Oakensheild, The Lost Prince, King Under the Mountain, was his Mate. Bilbo jerked his hand away, easing back and right out of the study. He had to get away, needed to take time to think without risking waking the others. He needed to run, shriek, rip through the iron binding him to a Hobbit form. The studs in his ears, under his tongue, ring wrapped around his thumb, </span>
  <em>
    <span>burned. </span>
  </em>
  <span>As quickly and silently as possible Bilbo grabbed his pack from his bedroom, only pausing long enough to gather his weapons before escaping the smial. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He set his things by the Gamgees front door, scrawling a barely legible letter to let Pet know what to do in the morning. He could hear laughs and cries getting steadily closer, the Bounders. Made up of mostly Tooks they were closer to the Hobbits of old, and would relish in him running with them even for a single night. He threw his head back, a rolling cry escaping his throat. The Bounders answered, inviting him to their sides. Bilbo slipped the iron ring from his thumb and started running. Night cool dew slid under his toes, soft grass caressing his feet. He hurtled over a fence line and nearly crashed into a Bounder. One of his cousins, Dora Baggins. Their line of the family was only a few generations away from the Change, shining eyes and fangs glinting in the moonlight. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo fit himself into her side, running along with the Bounders through the Shire. There was no trouble under the moonlight, just their own feral joy. He couldn’t force himself to forget the issues he was running from, but with the moonlight shining on his path, with the warmth of family close by, with the freedom of being himself, it seemed much farther away. Bilbo could distantly remember loving Thorin his first time around too, the quiet sort of love that was never answered. He knew that after the King's death he had never taken another lover, heart left beaten and bruised. It seemed like it would be the same this time around, because if the dwarves knew the beast that pressed against his bones they would never allow him to live. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo ignored the warm tears sliding down his cheeks, focusing on darting through the trees at the edge of the brandywine river. Dora had pulled away, leaving him to his own thoughts. Fog was rolling around his ankles, a sure sign that morning wasn’t far away. While his mind wasn’t settled, the anxious desire to hide under his own bed had been pushed away. He would be able to face the dwarves again, would hopefully be able to hide the matters of his heart under a polite mask. Thorin would not feel the mate bond, not the way Bilbo did with every ounce of his golden heart. He launched himself over a fallen log, hitting the ground and rolling. Dora crashed back into his space, laughing like a raging waterfall. He grabbed her by the ankle, tripping her up before starting the run back to Hobbiton proper. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As the sun rose it warmed the lands, waking the Hobbits who enjoyed such things. Bilbo saw a few of his neighbors and family members, their eyebrows shooting up when he charged by with the Bounders. He sped on to the Gamgees, feet sliding through the grass to avoid crashing into little Samwise. The faunt was up early, still bleary eyed but rapidly perking up at the sight of the twirling Bounders. Bilbo scooped up his pack, throwing it over his back in one movement. He wheeled around, rubbing a rough hand through Sam’s hair before joining back into the wild run. The Bounders ended every morning at the Green Dragon, different groups coming together to discuss what they saw through the dark hours. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This time Dora didn’t leave his side even as Bilbo slowed, he was in amazing shape for a hobbit, but still not used to running with the Bounders. His belly rumbled angrily, demanding that he get to breakfast and quickly. He just tucked his head down and kept moving, listening to the shouted calls of the Bounders around him. By the time they reached the Green Dragon his feet and head were pounding an angry song along to his heartbeat. He slowed to a proper walk, tugging his clothes back into order and attempting to straighten his hair. Dora just laughed at him, brushing dirt from his side. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not that I don’t love it when you join us, but you only do when something has upset you.”  Dora looped their arms together, guiding them to a corner table and signalling for some food. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo sighed, scrubbing at his face, “I’m going to be leaving the Shire today, joining a group to try and reclaim their home. Their leader, he really doesn't seem to like me. I didn’t mean to touch him but when I did…” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dora sat back in her seat, chewing on the edge of her lip. One of the servers brought heaping plates of food and the pair practically fell into them, conversation paused for the moment. Bilbo barely even tasted the meal, just registered the different temperatures as he filled his belly. They had burnt through a lot of energy, playing under the moon's light. It would have been worse if there had been a fight, but even so Bilbo could feel his legs cramping up. Dora finished first, raking her dark curls away from her face in such a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Frodo </span>
  </em>
  <span>way that his heart clenched. His dear nephew wouldn’t be born this time around, the Bounders were incapable of having children. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, this leader that doesn’t like you is your Mate?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo dipped his chin in a shallow nod, “He is.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And that’s what got you all twisted up? Or something more?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He raised an eyebrow at her bold question but answered anyway, “That’s not the only reason, but it is the biggest.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dora sipped her tea, before leaning forwards to brace her elbows on the table. Her eyes were more serious than he had ever seen them, hazel cool and assessing. Bilbo waited for what she would say, fiddling with the ring he had slipped back on. Her eyes tracked the movement, seeming to confirm something. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, I doubt anyone else realizes just how new you are. Especially in Hobbiton with the oldest families, some of them don’t even believe the stories any more. Not the Bounders though, we can sense it in you, raging to break free.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo sucked in a sharp breath, surprise closing off his throat. The Bounders had always been glad to have him run with them the few times he had, but he didn’t realize they could actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>sense </span>
  </em>
  <span>what he was. Dora bared her teeth in a vicious smile, canines thick and curved. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If she really wanted to she could shed the Hobbit form, take her place in the world. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He imagined that she would be astonishing, a waterfall given mortal form. She would never leave her husband, Drogo had wrapped her heart in chains of Iron and Salt. And he was to removed from their history, firmly bound to the body he was born in. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I might be the last.” Bilbo nearly whispered his confession, the first time he had said the words aloud. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Doras eyes lined in silver, a frown pulling her mouth down. It was an open secret to the ones that knew, that there had been no new Hobbits created in generations. Every faunt these days were born from Hobbits, of Hobbits, each one a step further from their heritage. There should have been more, Bilbo should have had siblings with him. But… he was the last of them. The only one to get away, the only one to live long enough to reach the Shire. Dora left her seat, coming around to wrap him in a hug. And though Bilbo was over 300 years old, though he had lived most of that time on his own, he couldn’t hold back the sniffles. He managed to stop after just a moment, barely dampening the corner of Dora’s Bounder tunic. He patted his cousin's side in thanks, gaining control once again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay here. You may turn up your nose at Shire traditions, but this one is needed.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He raised an eyebrow at her tone, but nodded all the same. She quickly left the Green Dragon, leaving Bilbo to finish the last of his breakfast. He could see the sun coming over the edge of the trees, the dwarves would likely be arriving soon. In the last life he could remember that they were gone before the first light, but Pet had likely made them food for a proper send off. The sooner they arrived the sooner Bilbo could join the journey, he had remembered to grab the Contract in his hasty exit earlier. He pulled it out, reading through and not able to stop his eyebrows raising. For one, it had very obviously been written with another dwarf in mind, many of the clauses either had no relevance to a hobbit or were the complete opposite of what one would want. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It even mentioned being buried in stone! No hobbit would allow their body to be so locked away, no they went back to the roots and insects of Yavanna’s realm. He pulled out one of his pens, settling in his seat to begin the editing process, Balin would be able to double check it later. Eventually Dora slipped back in, a long length of thorned ivy hanging in her hands. The tradition she had demanded he actually follow. The first time a faunt left Hobbiton they braided ivy into their hair, a sign of where they belonged. There was just one problem with that. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You do realize that I’ve left before, even traveling outside of the Shire?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dora just huffed, circling to his back and finger combing his curls, “yes you have, but always with the intention of coming back.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was silent at that. If things went well, if he didn’t fail so horribly again he doubted that he would willingly be returning to the Shire. His nature simply wouldn’t let him leave his mate, even if Thorin never accepted it. He might be able to return for a short while, to check on things and be sure Petunia was handling her position well but even that was debatable. He leant his head back, letting Dora begin placing her ivy. It was almost meditative, letting her carefully plait his hair. It brought back nearly faded memories of his mother carefully grooming him. If they had been anywhere else Bilbo would have been purring under the attention. As it was he just let his eyes slide closed and relished. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dwarves incoming!” someone shouted from the front. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo peeled his eyes open, the edges of sleep clinging to him. Dora had finished off his braid, leaving him nearly crowned in ivy. The irony of him wearing a crown before Thorin did not escape him, especially with how painful this one would be to remove. He folded the contract back up, sliding it into his coat pocket to give to Balin. Dora linked her arm with his, leading them outside into the mornings light. The warning had been correct, that was a grumpy company marching forwards. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm. They do seem like they could bully you around.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo gaped at Dora, taking in the barely there sly edge to her smile. It took him a moment to catch the innuendo in her voice before he threw his head back to laugh. He shoved her shoulder, turning back to his dwarves with a bright smile. He bounced to Balin, handing over the contract and mentioning that it needed to be edited. The old dwarf seemed surprised, but willing. When Thorin asked if Bilbo would be joining them he had to fight to keep his smile up. Thorin was glaring like having him along was the worst news he had gotten all morning. And at Bilbo's confirmation he just grunted before stalking away. Well, no one could blame him for sticking his tongue out at the retreating dwarf. At least it wasn't a snarl this time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf chuckled from his side, setting a heavy hand on his shoulder. At least he wasn’t trying to tug Bilbo's braid, that would have ended in bloodshed. He grumbled to himself, joining the others as Thorin started leading ponies out. A bad feeling was building in his belly, especially as the king tried to hand Bilbo the reins. He took them, fighting to keep from sneering at the animal. Her ears pinned to her head, whites showing around her eyes. She hadn’t started rearing yet, but that was only a matter of time. Beasts tended to really not like him, or any of the hobbits so close to their roots. That was why the Bounders ran, not willing to deal with flighty animals. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, I don’t ride.” he said to the general group. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>More than a few eyebrows raised, questions of if he thought he could walk brought forth. He was just about to answer that yes he could and would when two hands scooped under each armpit and lifted him up. Bilbo suddenly remembered the same treatment in his last life before being roughly deposited onto the pony by the princes’. He had just enough time to curse roughly before the beast screamed, bucking hard and sending him through the air. He hit the ground shoulder first and rolled, staring up at the sky and trying to catch his breath. The dwarves were shouting, but his ears were ringing to loudly for him to actually hear what was being said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A hand shoved itself into his sight line, capped with a bracelet of dark iron. It connected to a wrist and shoulder, all the way to Dora’s smirking face. Bilbo grumbled out loud, but accepted her help and lifted himself to his feet. He cast a sharp glare to Kili and Fili, who at least had the good grace to look properly shocked. Dora roughly dusted him off, nearly knocking the air right back out of him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I said I don’t ride.” his words were threaded through with a growl. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Princes’ spluttered loudly, but Bilbo just held a hand up. “However I know that it is unreasonable to walk all the way to our destination. Gandalf if you would?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Wizard chuckled, leaving the side of his long legged horse to soothe Bilbo's beast. He whispered in something that sounded close to Sindarin, but Bilbo was too annoyed to try to decipher it. Dora nudged him in the ribs, tilting her chin at the glowering Thorin. Bilbo just barely nodded, watching the way her eyes lit up in understanding. She understood the struggles of finding a Mate, after all Drogo had been courting another Lass when she realized what they were. She gave a slight smile, turning back to the dwarves. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Too much fey blood in us.” she offered, they reared back shock obvious, “It's a Took thing, most prey animals tend to avoid getting too close, you just startled the poor thing.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dora approached the devil beast, crooning at it when it tried to toss its head in fear. She managed to get a hand on its soft looking nose, stroking it gently. Bilbo bared his teeth at it, staying back until Gandalf had finished his conversation. He would be staying as far away as he could manage for as long as he could. He sidled up to Oin’s side, reassuring the healer that he had just gotten the breath knocked out of him. Thorin was glaring at him, probably plotting Bilbo’s demise for taking up more time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well Bilbo, why don’t you run with me to the border at least?” Dora offered with a slightly feral grin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo cracked his neck, bouncing on his toes for just a second, “You just want someone who can keep up.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her answering laugh was more than a little challenging. She came to lean into his shoulder, practically vibrating with excitement. He couldn’t blame her for being excited, as much as he was exhausted he did still want to run. Especially with the look Thorin was giving him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We will meet you on the border, do try to be there by elevensies.” Bilbo offered. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dora bolted from his side, darting into an ally and quickly melting into the shadows. He took the time to hand Gandalf his pack at least, before running after his cousin. Bilbo had 15 years on her, and knowledge of all the best shortcuts, he wasn’t concerned about falling behind. He only paid enough attention to the dwarves to wave away their protests, then he was gone. His lungs sucked in the cool morning air, arms pumping at his sides. He danced around the Men that blocked his path, hearing more than one startled shout. Bilbo didn’t look like the typical Bounder with his nice red coat and long hair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hit the edge of the river, running alongside it long enough to get his curls damp before pulling off. Dora hadn’t shown up again, but he knew she would show before they reached the border. As he rounded a sharp bend he could see the company, riding along on their ponies and peering into the bushes. He gave a warbling cry, catching their attention and waving. Before they could think about joining him he melted back into the trees, darting through shadows and keeping his ears open. When he heard the near silent foot falls of his cousin he darted back onto the path, neatly dodging her attempted tackle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dora screeched angrily, following him onto the path. He twisted around her trying to grab him again, but didn’t look down in time to see her ankle in his way. He hit the ground and rolled, scrambling up in time to avoid Dora again. She snarled at his back as he launched himself to the side, before breaking into a run for the dwarves. He ducked around Gandalfs horse, huffing out a laugh at the others with hands on their weapons. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Blasted faunt is fast!” he gasped before having to make a break for it again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They played that way all the way to the border. Twisting around each others grabbing hands, occasionally managing to land a solid hit. Bilbo couldn’t deny that he had gotten out of practice, Dora had him on the defensive nearly the whole time. It was a good opportunity to see what he needed to practice before he reached something that wanted to actually kill them. Every now and then they startled the dwarves, every time Thorin looked more and more murderous. Bilbo knew he would regret angering the King so quickly, but he was having fun. And he hoped that he was showing that he wouldn’t just be a burden. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The border of the Shire was invisible to most of the races. Gandalf would probably see it, and Bilbo knew that the hobbits could. To him it looked like a heat shimmer, reaching as far as the eye could see. He slammed to a stop right before it, toes just brushing the tingling line. Dora crept to his side, tucking her chin over his shoulder. She did not insult him by asking if he was sure, just offered comfort and strength. Together they waited for the dwarves to come milling up the hill. When they paused Bilbo swung himself up onto his pony. It snorted and stomped its feet, but did not throw him again at least. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay safe, and come back.” Dora offered quietly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo nodded, to chocked up to say anything back. She wheeled on her heel, running back in the direction of Bree. Bilbo forced himself to face forwards, kicking his pony across that unseen line. It forced a shiver down his spine, but it was the beginning. There would be no turning back, no breaking now. He took a deep breath, calling into the empty sky with a rolling Bounder call. Dora answered, the sound soft and mourning. Bilbo locked eyes with Thorin, giving him a half smile and falling into formation. Together the Company rode, for Erebor and for every thing else. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Last Relaxations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*laughs hysterically while gesturing at everything* comment if you're using fics as a distraction\coping mechanism! Also,,,,,, everyone I write is an emotionally stunted turnip aren't they?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The rest of the evening was spent mostly in silence, Bilbo just trying to adjust to riding a pony again. The dwarves did not try to pull him into their various conversations, something that did make disappointment kick in his belly. He knew it would take them time, especially the older ones, but he was bored. Not even the various animals flitting about were enough to keep his attention. Plus holding onto a steady hobbit form was becoming harder than he thought it would. A part of him recognized the dwarves as safety, and the further he got from the Shire the more his bindings faded. Bilbo chewed the edge of his thumb, ignoring the looks Gandalf kept trying to send him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did the Lass say that you were Fey?” came Ori’s quiet voice from behind Bilbo. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He flinched, twisting in the saddle to look back at Ori. Bilbo had been too caught up in his own thoughts to notice that he had melded quite into the middle of the group. Dwalin rode at Ori’s side, keeping a cautious watch over Bilbo. If nothing else then he should have known that Ori’s curiosity would catch up to him eventually. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hummed, thinking back for a moment to realize what the lad was referencing. “Ah, Dora told you that did she? Yes, most of us from the Took line can claim a bit of Fey blood, it tends to pop up every few generations.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ori looked like someone had given him the best gift. He pulled a small notebook from his saddlebag, expertly guiding his pony with his knees. The action made Bilbo jealous, his pony was still likely to bolt if he didn’t pay attention. Of course that had less to do with the Fey blood, and everything to do with the beast Bilbo was under his skin. The poor pony probably would have been more comfortable with a wolf on its back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going to name her Daisy, for dealing with this nonsense. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Most Hobbits are related in some form or another, the Tooks are one of the largest families around. For a line whose name could be a synonym for fool they are very well off, and one of the most married into clans. So you could really say that most Hobbits have at least a smidge of Fey blood to their names.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ori nodded along excitedly, making quick notes in his little booklet. Bilbo paused to think about what he would say next. If he really wanted to he could lecture on hobbit family trees all the way to Erebor, but the details were not currently needed. And as it was, he could feel Thorin's gaze burning into the side of his head. He risked a quick glance to the side, nearly falling off his pony at how close the King had drifted. Bilbo seemed to quite remember Thorin always riding at the front of the company, instead it was Bifur leading them now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My mother was a Took, daughter to the Thain before she married into the Baggins line. People used to say if she had never met him she would have become one of the best Bounders in the Shire.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What a waste that would have been!”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo flashed his teeth at Gandalf just to make the wizard frown. His and Belladonna's arguments about joining the bounders were still whispered about behind closed doors around the Shire. Most the Hobbits thought Gandalf had been severely overstepping with his very vocal condementation, but some of the higher class had agreed. They had thought it </span>
  <em>
    <span>improper </span>
  </em>
  <span>for the daughter of the Thain to be something as wild as a Bounder. Of course they regretted that when she compromised by becoming an adventurer instead. Then there was the whole debacle with her marrying Bungo, and really Bilbo just enjoyed all the scandal. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You would have just been cranky about having to find another Hobbit to harass.” Bilbo said in his most snooty Sackville-Baggins tone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf grumbled to himself, not raising to the bait. Bilbo nearly preened, it was so rare that he got to win their little games. He turned back to Ori, who looked adorably confused but also eager. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You see, Bounders are not able to leave the Shire. They tie themselves to the land and to the people, making being a Bounder the meaning to their life.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Most Bounders would never marry. Their bindings made it to where they couldn’t have children, something that no sane Hobbit would ever agree to. They could never give the whole of their heart to someone, leaving much to be desired in a marriage. The only reason the Thain had approved of Dora and Drogo was because Dora had been insistent of never being separated from her Mate. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I almost joined the Bounders myself,” Bilbo stage whispered just to see how Gandalf would react. He was rewarded by a rather vulgar gesture from the Wizard for his antics, “of course Gandalf may have just carted me out of the Shire if he had been around at that point.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ori’s face twisted up at that, eyes darting nervously to Dwalin. The warrior dwarf was glaring at Gandalf's back, thumb running along the head of his battle axe. Bilbo mentally shrugged to himself, chalking it to dwarven oddities. He didn’t seem to remember there being much tension between the dwarves and Gandalf, beyond Thorin being stubborn. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably for the best in the end, who knows where you would get a new Burglar.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ori nodded, only looking dejected for a little while. Bilbo went back to watching where they were going in the meantime. He could still feel Thorin's gaze every now and then, but he was steadfastly ignoring it. The sun was starting to go down, they would hopefully be stopping soon. His belly rumbled in anticipation, memories of breakfast a distant thing. Running with Dora had already drained his energy, and he hadn’t eaten again to gain some back. But at the same time he would need to get used to that on the journey, their stores would draw thin soon enough. He very clearly remembered the biting hunger of his previous life, how much weight he had dropped over the year. And this time he was already starting off more slender than technically proper. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The difference in Hobbit biology and the dwarves was fascinating in a sense. They were an exceedingly hardy people, able to get by on less than any of the other free folk. Bilbo wasn’t certain how much of that was by choice, or rather their current set of circumstances. There was very little soft padding fat on any of the dwarves, excluding Bombur as a celebrated cook. The part of him that was a caretaker wanted to stuff them full of sweets and treats, keep them safe and warm and fed. But that wasn’t possible, and the best thing he could do was keep them safe. He very well knew the reasons Gandalf favored him, and wanted to bring Bilbo along on the journey to begin with. In a twisted sense he was eager to face down Smaug again, ready to unleash himself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo passed the next few hours musing to himself, imagining all the different scenarios where he could reveal the truth. At the Trollshaws, in the goblin caves, against Azog, even in the final battle. Of course if he did that then it was very likely the dwarves would name him their next foe, and he would end stuffed and mounted on the wall. The newest spoils of war, Master Baggins’ head polished till it gleamed. And since he was such a soft hearted fool he would probably let them do it too. He didn’t exactly have plans for after the reclaiming of Erebor. Last time he had gone back into the Shire, spent his remaining years shoving his misery to the side and failing to heal in his heart. Even the love of his nephew only did so much to fill that void, and the less said about how Bilbo left him the better. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He almost didn’t realize when they stopped for the night, until Daisy nearly ran into the back of Thorin's pony. Bilbo felt himself flush, ears going hot under his hair and ducked to avoid meeting that glare. Instead he just focused on the arduous task of sliding off the ponies back. Oh the dwarves made it look easy, hopping off and striding about like they were born on horseback. But they hadn’t spent the whole night and most of the morning running like wild things, and Bilbo was a fair bit shorter than even Nori. He cursed when his calf cramped, locking his knee to keep from falling and grabbing onto the saddle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sore Burglar?” and there was Thorin opening his insufferable mouth again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo flashed his teeth, coming around the side of Daisy and trying his hardest to walk like normal instead of limping. He would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>spend his time turning the other cheek or being belittled. Instead he rocked back and forth on his toes, stretching out the stiff muscles, and sent Thorin his sweetest smile. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to admit, I’ve had much better rides.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He turned his back on the dwarves, hiding his smug smile at the smothered chuckles. He could just hear Kili whisper asking Fili what he meant and had to roll his eyes. Whoever had convinced Thorin to bring faunts along on the journey should have been left to be goblin meat. Really, those boys were ridiculous. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Though I suppose I should be glad running just left me a bit sore, Dora is known for leaving people bedbound.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He turned back, having freed his bedroll from its hiding place. Bilbo neatly stepped around Thorin, moving to Gandalf's side. The night would be warm enough to not worry about being close to the fire yet, and he didn’t want to wake up covered in dwarf smell. As it was the constant smell of stone was covering up any smells of prey or predator and throwing Bilbo off. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He was still ignoring that one smell he could catch, stronger than any of the others. Stone and Iron and warm summer evenings, a smell of home and heart. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He ran a hand across the Ivy braided into his hair, already dreading the process of trying to pull it out. Thankfully Dora had bullied him into getting a proper haircut for her wedding a few years ago, so it wasn't past his shoulder blades the way it once was. Even curling past the edge of his collar was too long for hobbit standards, but he was unwilling to go much shorter. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He snapped his bedroll out, settling down cross legged and watching how the dwarves quickly set up camp. They moved around each other with the ease of knowledge, only rarely needing to call out specific instructions. Bilbo felt very much like an outsider, if he had offered to help he would have likely just gotten in the way. Instead he just started unweaving his hair, cursing when any particularly stubborn thorn got lodged into a tangle. Other times he would have been more patient, but for now he just wanted food and sleep. He nearly snarled aloud when gentle hands pushed his head down, tugging his hair out of his hands. He could smell the ozone and pipesmoke that always seemed to follow Gandalf and relaxed slightly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You did explain to your cousin that you have already left the Shire many times before didn’t you?” Gandalf asked over the sudden silence filling the air. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo’s chest rumbled around a purr, giving him a moment to find his words. “I did, she just didn’t listen. At least I’m not a Stoor, they use blackberry brambles.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf hummed in agreement, carefully continuing his task. The sounds of quiet talking slowly kicked back up, covering the sound of Bilbo’s rolling purr at least. He would normally be a little more careful, but there were very few in the Shire who just handed him casual affection. Hobbits tended to be very social creatures, Bilbo was the one who closed himself off. He didn’t have the patience to play their subtle word games and win the rewards. He was used to the Shire of his previous life, with all the unsaid rules about respectability and other such nonsense. It made him seem stiff and emotionally stunted in this new life. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf finally pulled the last of the ivy free, combing through Bilbo's curls to be sure there were no more hidden thorns or tangles. He had honestly almost fallen asleep, even his purr tapering off somewhere in the middle of everything. When Gandalf finally patted him on the head and creaked to his feet Bilbo yawned widely, baring his teeth like a cat. If it weren't for his belly trying to make a meal of his spine he might have curled up right there and went to sleep. Instead he forced himself upright, hissing quietly at how his muscles had locked up already. Tomorrow would be truly miserable, unless he managed to wake up early enough to warm up his muscles before they set off. He stumbled over to the fire, and must have looked rather pathetic because Bombur just shooed him to sit on a log and sent Bifur over with a full bowl of stew. Bilbo grunted his thanks, quickly shoveling food in his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once he was half finished, and past the frantically devouring stage, Bilbo took a second to observe the others between bites. Once they had all settled in the family groups had clumped together once more, clear lines of division made clear. He knew that by the end of the journey they would all consider themselves family in all but blood, but it would take some time to get there. The princes were each leaning against one side of Thorin, talking in low murmurs as they looked at the map. Bilbo got thoroughly distracted staring at Thorin's hands and bared forearms, only jerking into reality when someone cleared their throat beside him. He faced Bofur, hoping his face wasn’t as warm as his ears felt. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright this evening Master Baggins?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo blinked at the stilted words, slowly chewing his bite of stew to gather his thoughts. He hadn’t expected one of the older dwarves to include him so soon. Though his attitude </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>drastically different from the first time he had made the journey. If anything he was closer to the hobbit he had been at the end, with the added bonus of being secure in his own skill sets and uses. Plus with the way Bofur was glancing over at his brother and cousin Bilbo could guess he had been ordered to make the attempt. Or at the least prompted. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am doing quite well, thank you. Though I must insist that you call me Bilbo, I am no longer the Master Baggins.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bofur’s smile became strained, “Ah, your lass said something along the same lines. Did you have to give up the title because you were coming with the Company.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo took careful notice of the hush that fell over everything, 13 sets of eyes locked onto him. He wished for a pipe to chew on, something to fiddle with while he thought of the best way to explain. The edge of his thumb nail made do, a habit he had never been able to break. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think that you are looking at this the wrong way. Being Master Baggins isn’t like being a lord, it’s not quite a title. You could be more accurate saying I organized the Baggins line, made sure everyone was operating well and keeping an eye on figures and such. I made sure that no tenants were getting unfairly taxed, and that each family was being treated well under my care.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds like a Lordship to me!”  Kili offered from where he had curled with his head in Fili’s lap. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo huffed, shaking his head as a few of the others nodded along. “No, a Lordship implies that I had some kind of power. The Shire doesn’t work like that the gardener is just as, if not more, important as the socialite. My word only carries weight by the effort I’ve put in, and how people know they could rely on me to be fair if they needed help.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t really making a good case for himself. If anything he was just convincing them more. Even Balin had a considering look on his face, sending Thorin unsubtle glances. Bilbo didn’t want to touch that issue with a ten foot pole, so he hurried to offer a distraction. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And to answer your other question, I gave Petunia the claim to Master. So I am just Bilbo Baggins, no master attached.”  he shrugged, hoping that they understood it was not an issue. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t seem to come across. There were at least four dwarves looking at him like he lost his mind, and another three with tears in their eyes. Bilbo threw his hands in the air, frustrated that they were making it a bigger deal than it was. He was quite glad to be rid of the title to begin with, and without its weight he could learn to be himself again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gandalf, a little help here?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf just chuckled, chewing on the stem of his pipe. Bilbo contemplated snatching the thing away for himself. He had remembered his damned handkerchiefs, but not his pipe because he was obviously cursed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You will find that Hobbits are a strange and often contrary group, it is easier to just agree when they say odd things.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo just gaped, struck silent once more. Gandalf practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>twinkled </span>
  </em>
  <span>at him, pleased with his victory. A scratchy noise flipped between his teeth, a frustrated noise he hadn’t made since he was a child. He seriously debated throwing his dagger at Gandalf's head, might have if Bofur hadn’t been a slightly panicked distraction. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“People say that about Dwarrow too!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He continued glaring at Gandalf, but jerked his chin in a ‘go on’ motion. “And we say the same about Men, so that just proves how different cultures react to each other?” Bofur lost steam halfway through, turning his statement into a question at the end. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was enough to let Bilbo lower his metaphorical hackles at least. He wanted to get along with his dwarves, and Gandalf was going to scare them away. Or at least make them more cautious, and that was just as annoying. He bared his teeth at the meddlesome wizard, before turning back to his stew with a sharp sniff. Thorin was once more staring, the side of his head prickling in awareness. Bilbo risked a glance once, barely glimpsing a glimpse of blue before he focused on the ground next to the king's feet. He couldn’t remember Thorin ever noticing him this early in the journey, beyond being a general ass. But while he had made the expected snide comments he hadn’t gone out of the way to chide Bilbo. He chewed on his spoon after finishing the meal. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His belly still let him know it would appreciate more food, but Bilbo had grown used to the feeling. He had long since trained himself out of the desire to have the proper seven daily meals of a hobbit. Most days he was satisfied with three and a snack, but even that would be hard to find on the road. He would be sure to do a little hunting before they left the plentiful lands surrounding the Shire. Shore up their stores as much as possible before reaching the barren lands. That would be an issue for another day, for now Bilbo was absolutely exhausted. He spat out his spoon, carrying his dishes to Bombur before promptly collapsing into his bedroll. He curled into a little ball, falling asleep nearly as soon as his eyes were closed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~~~~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin was many things. A Brother, Uncle, King, Blacksmith, Fighter, and monumental liar. He had tried to convince himself that he would be able to ignore Master Baggins. Imagined that the most he would feel for the uptight burglar to be grudging respect. And yet he had nearly drawn his blade when the wizard had helped groom the halflings hair. He hung off of every word that fell from his One's lips, treasuring them like golden tokens. That razor sharp wit stumped him, leaving him feeling slow and stupid. Dwarves were not known for their preference for word games, speaking plainly and openly whenever they wanted something. He wanted to reach out, hold and protect his One, but it did not seem like that would be even tolerated much less appreciated. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Balin had taken to huffing at Thorin just to draw his attention away from bouncy curls and cunning eyes. It was somewhat working, and now that Master Baggins had curled into himself to sleep Thorin could at least pretend to focus on the others. His nephews had abandoned his side, going to their own bedroll and winding themselves together. He wanted to go drape his cloak over their shoulders like he had done when they were pebbles, but he knew how desperate they were to seem grown and capable. He wanted to reassure them that there was no need, but there really was. The other Lords had already started questioning Fili as his heir, and Kili had only just barely come of age. As much as he desired to keep them safe and sheltered forever he couldn't.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not allowed to give me that smug look anymore.” Dwalin rumbled quietly from Thorin's right. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wonder how keen the Burglars eyes are if he hasn’t caught you out yet.”  Nori added. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf just chuckled, blowing smoke like he was a dragon in disguise. Thorin glared at them all, sternly not allowing his gaze to flicker back to that specific problem. He hadn’t been the only dwarf staring, at least half of the Company was intrigued at the least. Of course they didn’t know what he claimed, and would back down if Thorin would tell them. But he didn’t. He had barely accepted finding his One himself, and wasn’t ready to be spreading that knowledge. Especially with how often he found himself entirely inappropriately fascinated with the Halfling sticking things in his mouth. If the others knew they would not be subtle in their teasing, and Thorin would have to face his feelings sooner than he planned. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He glowered at the Company, ignoring various snickers as he settled onto his own bedroll close to the boys. He was not part of the night's rotation, and would need all the sleep he could manage while things were still calm. Once they started getting closer to Erebor he doubted that he would get much rest. Thorin stretched out on his back, pillowing his head on one arm and the other resting on his blade. Sleep was thankfully quick, carrying him away to dreams of rolling grass and laughter under a mountain sky. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Wolves and Wargs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE. sorry dudes, December is rough with work and depression and family so i missed an update. take nearly 5k words of the boys being idiots as an apology!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next few days were hard for Bilbo to handle. He had to deal with the dwarves once more ignoring him, while also constantly watching him. He was constantly on edge, fighting the urge to snap at everyone for any reason. Even the lads had pulled back, trying to send him covert looks that were about as subtle as an Oliphant in a field. Technically, while they were out of the Shire they were still in the golden lands, flat planes stretching as far as the eye could see. This early into the spring there was only short grasses growing, interspersed with creeks and the occasional fruit bush. Bilbo was taking great joy in hunting for the few ripe blackberries he could find. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And since the dwarves were making no effort in including him, he was making no effort in sharing his treasures. Not even when Fili gave him some truly impressive puppy eyes. Kili was better at it, but Bilbo was prepared for him, less so for the golden prince. He would have broken, maybe even tried to make a few little pastries for everyone if it hadn’t been for Thorin’s overbearing glower. Bilbo couldn’t figure the king out, he acted so different from his first life that he was constantly tripping over his own expectations and making a fool out of himself. For Thorin was </span>
  <em>
    <span>constantly </span>
  </em>
  <span>staring, it seemed like he never even glanced away, yet he only spoke to berate Bilbo for slowing them down, or tripping over nothing, or being so particular about his food. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Honestly, Bilbo was at his wits end. He could probably be excused for causing a little bit of trouble. Fighting the twitch of a smile he sidled up to Gandalf's horse, close enough that the mounts ears pinned flat against his head. Gandalf huffed, side-eyeing Bilbo from his high perch. Biblo pretended like he wasn’t paying attention, gazing out across the flat fields. As soon as Gandalf turned back to face forwards Bilbo eased just a touch closer. Again the horse pinned its ears, tossing in a snort and head toss. Bilbo carefully backed Daisy away, trying to keep his face as innocent as possible. He could feel a few of the Dwarves taking notice of his antics, glances being sent their way. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He kept his peace for a little longer, even taking a break to hop off his pony and run ahead for a short while as had become his practice. He came back munching on some Jimson Weed, hopping back on Daisy and once more beginning his creep to Gandalf.  This time the horse didn’t even try to remain steady, hugging and snorting angrily. Bilbo only fell back when Gandalf swatted at him with his staff. He chuckled roughly, offering the poor wizard a handful of blackberries in thanks. Really, a little trouble made things just a little bit more interesting on the long drudging days. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They were starting to get into lands that he knew, the ones that he had been born into. A sharp line across the horizon signified the wall of cliffs that bracketed the outer plains. Soon they would start making the climb into the deserted lands, where little grew and dreadful creatures made their homes. Not yet though, as the day passed the party swerved to the left, heading for a slender stretch of woods that grew over the limits of the Brandywine river. Eventually it would vanish under the ground, travelling under the mountains until it resurfaced somewheres else under a new name.  For now it offered protection and a chance to land some final game. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Long hours later they finally pulled to a stop under the safety of the trees. Bilbo had noticed that the dwarves seemed to be unsettled by the plains. Though he also remembered the days when he had blended into them, creeping through tall golden grasses to pounce on mice and rabbits to his hearts content. There was something grating along Bilbo's nerves, but he couldn’t seem to place it. Old memories lurked at the back of his mind, offering the night air the sound of screams and fear. As the dwarves set up camp he couldn’t help but pace, looping circles around the small clearing. There had been nothing worse than the Wolves in the Plains since the fell winter, but that didn't settle Bilbo. If anything, that knowledge made him worse. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As darkness fell Bilbo finally found a comfortable place to sit. Every sound still had him looking around, every little bit of motion catching his eyes. Gandalf knew his reasons for worry, had been the one to find Bilbo still roaring his rage all those years ago. But he knew better than to interfere. Bilbo could tell his eyes were at least faintly burning, tinging the moonlight gold. A screech owl cried, making Bilbo's head whip around and a hand fall to sting. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that?” Ori squeaked. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo was about to answer the lad when Kili broke in, “I bet it was a Goblin!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Poor Ori blanched, pulling his legs into his chest. Kili cackled gleefully, draping himself across the youngest Ri brothers shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard they love to wander these lands! Preying on travellers who don’t know to expect them.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Orcs too,” Fili added, “riding on their foul Wargs and more than ready to find the unwary.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think Orcs are </span>
  <em>
    <span>funny?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thorin near snarled from the other side of the fire. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Both Princes' heads whipped around fast enough that some of Fili’s hair caught in his armor.  They took in the brittle silence that followed after their teasing, faces rapidly paling at the glares they received. Bilbo remembered this moment, and remembered what it prompted. It was one of the first moments that brought the company together, made them see each other as equals. Once it had been his place to stay out of it, and it still was. But there were things that haunted the plains that the dwarves didn’t even dream of.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think the scrooge of Durin's line is a joking matter?” Thorin asked his nephews. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Both shook their heads rapidly, prompting a scoff from the king. Thorin shoved to his feet, stalking away from their meager fire light and into the shadows of the forest. Part of Bilbo wanted to follow, but he also wanted to hear the story again. To hear it without fear filling his head, and more understanding of what had happened. Though… </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Its not the goblins you need to worry about here,” he offered into the darkness, “it's not the Orcs or the Wargs that controlled the outer plains.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He could feel the eyes on him as he left his spot, coming further into the light to resettle at Gandalf's side. He couldn’t help turning in the direction that had once meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>home, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so many years ago. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What has his majesty so upset?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>More than one dwarf jerked at the disrespect, but it was Balin who spoke. He told the story of Azanulbizar, of how Durin’s line was nearly destroyed. Frerin being left alive but half blinded, Thrain dead, and Thror missing. How it was the final breaking of Erebors spirits, and how so many of their people paid the price for their greed and ambition. It left the part in a somber mood, dinner being passed around with little speaking. Bilbo wanted to repeat the past and bring Thorin something, but Dwalin moved faster. He laid awake for hours listening to the gentle night sounds and hoping Thorin would rejoin them. He had no such luck, slowly fading into an uneasy rest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>````</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo jerked upright, sleep abruptly forgotten. He turned into the wind, hoping Balins stories had just stirred up old memories. Of course he had no such luck. The wind carried to him distant wolf cries, barely there even with his hearing. Adrenaline pumped through him, driving his senses even higher. Ever so slowly he eased to his haunches, silently sliding sting loose. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No blue glow. These were only normal wolves then. He peered at the sleeping dwarves, snarling aloud at who was still missing. Bifur lurched to his feet at the noise, weapon clenched in his hands. Bilbo knew the image he presented, eyes gleaming in the dark, lips pulled back from thick curving teeth, hands on his weapons. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wolves,”  the word was more snarl than voice. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bifure nodded sharply, kicking at his cousins. But Bilbo had other concerns. His mate was out there. Alone. Distracted, easy prey for the Wolves that ever circled the Shire. A growl rolled through his chest, an eerie backdrop to the sound of Dwarves slowly waking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to go find Thorin”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bifur shook his head, making a grab for him. Bilbo darted away, melting into the trees before anyone had time to call his name. He silently crept over fallen twigs and leaves, the only sounds the gentle wind. Every sense was on high alert, the instincts of a predator roaring to life. He tracked Thorin by scent, mouth partially open to taste the air. He found him sulking at the edge of a meadow, nearly glowing in the moonlight. It took Bilbo's breath away, not just because he was beautiful, but also because he was practically a glowing sign of ‘fresh meat’. Part of Bilbo wanted to stop and savor the image, but the rest was very focused on the danger they were in. He fully knew that he was being a bit silly. Any dwarf  could take down a wolf with proper warning. They had faced orcs, wargs, goblins, and more without losing their lives. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But the scars wrapping around his calf ached as he whispered, “Thorin!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin flinched, head whipping around fast enough to send hair flying. Bilbo eased from behind a tree, stepping into the meager light. He knew the dwarves had night vision even better than his. Whatever Thorin saw made him blanch, hand sliding to rest on his sword. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What's wrong? What happened?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo appreciated that he didn't waste time. He just left his chosen spot and adopted a ready stance. The iron ring on Bilbo's hand stung, but not as bad as his throbbing piercings. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wolves.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin raised an eyebrow, relaxing slightly, “yes, there are plenty in the area. They tend to stay away from light and noise, not bothering travellers overmuch.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo growled, moving to press nearly into Thorin's side. The king shifted, leaning away slightly, but Bilbo had a hand wrapped around his wrist, starting to tug him away. An entirely to close howl made him flinch, head twisting to try and narrow what direction it came from. Thorin still was only just barely wary, but he didn’t know Shire wolves. Only the Hobbits did, and that grudge ran deeper than any other </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They have our scent, hunting. Hungry.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin stilled briefly, face going serious once more. Another howl split the night, close enough that even dwarven hearing could pick it up. Bilbo nudged him back into motion, tucking his chin down reflexively. He cringed at the crunching of Thorin's great steel shod boots. He couldn’t even chide, because Thorin was cursing quietly, and very obviously trying to be quiet. There very much was a reason that no dwarf would be able to sneak up on even a sleeping smaug. And there was a reason Bilbo could. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was quiet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo had a handful of Thorin's cloak wrapped around his fist, both to ground himself and to attempt to guide the king. The wolves were still far out, but coming closer. Thankfully Thorin hadn’t wandered terribly far and it wasn’t long before he could hear the sounds of camp breaking down. Soon they reached the clearing and Bilbo had to practically peel himself from Thorin's side. His instincts raged at the action, but he had a plan. He made for his bedroll, dropping Sting and slipping his dagger back onto his thigh. The great ivory fang settled him somewhat, he knew its strength well and it was a comfort. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf scoffed in disgust, catching on remarkable quickly. Or maybe not, considering how well he knew hobbits, “must you?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Biblo nodded firmly, tying his hair back quickly. He firmly ignored the looks he could feel burning between his shoulder blades as he pulled his cloak out of his pack. The leather had already gotten him a few odd looks, lighter in color than expected and edged in a thick ruff of coarse grey furr. It had been made out of his first wolf kill, and only refitteed to him as he got bigger. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There are Shire wolves, we have another three days of riding before we leave their territory.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf grumbled, scooping up his staff and coming over. Bilbo preemptively slid his ring off, pressing it into Gandalf's waiting hand. Dwalin was the first dwarf to start cursing, demanding to know what they were planning. Bilbo just cracked his neck to each side, bouncing on his toes. He jerked his chin at Gandalf, leaving the wizard to do his explaining. Gandalf pulled a move from Bilbos’ book, baring his teeth in anger. Bilbo chuckled roughly, letting the glow fill his eyes and bared his own teeth before he bolted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo ran until he couldn’t hear the others, then through his head back and called into the night. If there had been any other hobbits around they would have answered, if there had been any Bounders he would have had help. Even the rangers knew what a hobbit call sounded like. But instead there was just the sound of angry howls. Though as far as Bilbo could tell there were only two, maybe three wolves. If he was careful he could take care of them, and then the rest of the pack would think again before trying to hunt </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>dwarves. He hurtled over a log, landing on all fours and darting forwards. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His heart beat along to his footsteps, beast pressing against his bones. Footsteps sounded to his left, Bilbo swung in a wide arc to head off whatever was coming. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ashes, smoked pepper and gold. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He nearly snarled at Gloin, freezing in place and making eye contact. The red headed dwarf gestured frantically, stomping to Bilbo’s side. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Idiots, the all of them. Did Gandalf not explain?  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Well the answer to that was probably fairly obvious, he should know better than to leave any kind of explanation up to Gandalf if he wanted it to be actually done. Bilbo darted forwards, grabbing Gloin’s wrist and tugging him back in the direction of the camp. Really, he shouldn’t have been able to tug the heavy dwarf, but he was surprisingly pliant. Even staying quiet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Together the duo reached the clearing where the camp had once been, only to find just Gandalf standing in it surrounded by the ponies. Bilbo ignored him, very firmly turning to shove Gloin over to his pony. He left the dwarf there, turning back into the woods. Oin was the next one he found, walking in circles not far from the clearing. He got the same treatment as his brother, being soundly deposited back where he belonged. Bifur, Bofur and Bombur were all walking together, and they tried to put up a little bit more resistance but halted when he snarled over their protests. He had to range out farther to find the Ri brothers, tracking them by the sounds of Nori clambering through the treetops. Thankfully they went easily enough, as soon as Bilbo got a hand wrapped around Ori’s shoulder the elders just fell into line. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Balin was easy to find, he had just settled on a nearby rock and was happily puffing away at his pipe. He rolled his eyes and tapped it out once Bilbo stepped from the shadows, easily leading the way back to the clearing. He spoke as well, but Bilbo had grown surprisingly adept at tuning out the grumbling of aggravated dwarves. Next came the hunt for Dwalin, who took one look at Bilbo and set his heels into the dirt. He would have drug the dwarf the same as the others, but he heard a snarl that wasn’t from him. He whirled around just barely catching a glimpse of light grey fur through the trees. Carefully he eased back, keeping Dwalin behind him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The warrior dwarf had settled into a slight crouch, axes pulled free and ready in his hands. The wolf was circling slowly, Bilbo could just barely hear its footfalls. He guided Dwalin back with one hand, slowly pushing them away from the edge of the treeline. He couldn’t hear another wolf, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t one. Staying still and silent, waiting to lunge at their backs. He strained his eyes to peer into the gloom, desperately searching for another glimpse of movement. When it came, it came from the side. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo dropped to the ground on his belly, snarling the whole way. The wolf missed, but Dwalin didn’t. His axes flashed in the moonlight, carving a deep furrow in the beasts flank. Bilbo twisted to his feet, darting out of the way of snapping jaws. He was tall for a hobbit, but even with that he was barely level with the wolf's broad chest. He stumbled back a couple of steps, praying that the wolf would go for him over Dwalin. A heavily armored and weaponed dwarf, or the hobbit that was a Shire-Wolfs born enemy. And one wearing wolf hide at that. Thankfully he was right, the wolf moved to face him and left its back open for Dwalin. He moved with trained efficiency, axes lashing out into the back of the wolves skull. For a hysterical moment Bilbo feared that the blow wasn’t enough until the wolf slowly keeled over, blood sliding from its nose. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A semi-coherent moments thought made him thankful Dwalin hadn’t used his massive war hammer. That would have been a mess. He dropped to his haunches, carefully eyeing the wolf to insure that it was properly dead and not just stunned. Though with Dwalin's axe buried deep into the back of its skull he did not have much thought for its survival. Honestly, the wolf was a stunning specimen. A massive female, with a lovely dark grey back and tawny belly. She seemed to be in good shape, plump even after winter and no obvious prior injuries. He pulled open her mouth, pleased to find all of her teeth accounted for. Just one of those massive canines was the same length as his palm, and more than capable of tearing into the soft areas. It was early enough in spring that she hadn’t even started to lose her winter fur, a blessing he was glad to take advantage of. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“These are not </span>
  <em>
    <span>wolves.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dwalin rumbled. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo glanced at him from the corner of his eye, taking in that still aggressive stance. He looked ready to go into battle, like there were more wolves just waiting to spring from the shadows. Bilbo hadn’t yet heard from the other wolf, the night felt strangely silent now that their short fight was over. And no one had even gotten hurt, though Dwalin still seemed angry. That could be chalked up to anything though, and most likely the lack of explanation was only making it worse. Bilbo nodded sharply, standing to rip Dwalin's axe out of the wolf. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course they’re not. These are Shire-wolves, cross bred from Wargs. Thankfully not half so vicious, or smart, they are the stain on the lands.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He flipped the axe in his hand, nearly dropping it from the unexpected weight. Dwarven weapons were much heavier than hobbit weapons, made of solid metal and thick wood. Bilbo much preferred his dagger, or Sting with their light weights for easy throwing. He passed the axe back to Dwalin and kicked at the side of the wolf. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“See if you can’t take this back to the camp, it would be useful.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dwalin raised an eyebrow, mouth opening to likely say something smart about the order. But something caught Bilbo attention, his hearing just barely catching a quiet growl on the wind. He froze, ears to the wind in hopes of catching another small warning. What he got was infinitely worse. The angry roar of a dwarf protecting what's theirs. He tore off through the trees, no longer caring about silence over speed. Sharp twigs tore at his tough feet, branches slapping at his face as he crashed through them. Nothing could slow him, not as he heard another growl and a barely there whimper. Finally he launched over a small creek and turned, catching sight of Kili and Fili standing back to back, each facing down a large wolf. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin stood behind them both, pressed into a tree trunk with one hand clenched around his middle. The smell of copper tainted the air, driving the wolves into a blood fury and making them impatient. When one lunged forwards to nip at Kili’s side Bilbo saw </span>
  <em>
    <span>gold. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nothing could have stopped him from marching right out of his concealed position, snarling louder than even the wolves. Everything froze, energy crackling through everything before it all crashed into unstoppable motion. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~~~~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If there had ever been anything more lovely than his One, Thorin could not recall.  The way he stepped out of the gloom, his eyes burning like a lit forge, that damn dagger pulled from its sheath on his thigh, the lightest spray of blood across his cheeks. If Thorin had ever had a chance to not fall in love, it was but a fleeting thought that he waved at as it passed. Though he would have much rathered that they were safe in Erebor, comfortable in the royal ward rather than bleeding on the ground and surrounded by foul warg spawn. The growl that ripped through Master Baggins would have been at home coming from a wildcat, not something so tiny. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin wanted to lurch away from the tree he leaned against and attack the wolves himself, but he could not if he wanted to keep his innards where they belonged. He had passed on his Fauld to Fili as a coming of age gift and regretted it now. Or not, since it was protecting his nephew. As it was one of the Wolves spun to lunge at the new threat, apparently not expecting the dagger thrown cleanly into its open maw. The thing went down yowling, and Bilbo darted forwards to rip the knife out of the Wolf's mouth, carving it across the beasts throat in a clean death blow. The other had lunged once more for Kili, but the Princes moved as one unit. Kili went high, whipping his sword fast enough to make it whistle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the wolf attempted to dodge low there was Fili waiting with his twin fighting knives angled and ready. It was dead before its teeth had time to close in one last desperate snap. Thorin finally stumbled away from the tree, nearly falling into his nephews when his vision spotted. Thankfully the wounds were not deep enough to truly be a concern, though where the claw marks traced his ribs stung like fire. He could finally hear the others crashing through the brush, and had to wonder how much faster the Halfling was than them. He ran his hands over Kili’s wrist, finding the shallow cuts the lad had earned. They were shallow, barely oozing blood even with being in such a vulnerable spot. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What were you thinking?!”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin turned, taking in the true anger in his Ones face. His eyes still burned with that unholy fire, something Thorin really wanted to ask about. But before he could Fili’s pride took over the lads' common sense. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What were </span>
  <em>
    <span>we </span>
  </em>
  <span>thinking? What about you? We are three warriors trained for battle, you are a single Halfling with a dagger!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Warriors!” Bilbo scoffed, tossing his curls out of his eyes, “I’ve seen better work from Fauntlings.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin grumbled, drawing himself to his full height even if it made his cuts ache. Fili tucked himself under Thorin's good arm, helping steady some of his weight. He subtly tugged on one of his golden braids, old habits rearing their heads. They had faced plenty of angry lords ready to take them down for any perceived failure. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Arthon!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the shouted order came from </span>
  <span>Tharkûn, and its effect was instant. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo straightened, a civil mask falling over his face and hands tucking into his bracers. The grey wizard entered the clearing, staff glowing and leading his path. The Company tumbled out behind him, a blood drenched Dwalin leading the charge. Thorin's heart stuttered, but his friend was walking well not like he was injured. Bilbo growled lowly at the approach of everyone, but held his comments until Oin started cursing as soon as he saw Thorin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“hofibai vur malairi, wer shio di astahi” he muttered, pausing to give the Company a dirty glare. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That may be true, but there are more important matters to discuss now.”  Gandalf chided gently. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo nodded sharply and stalked to check the Wolves. He seemed pleased by what he found, sending Gandalf a significant look. The Wizard sighed heavily, but walked to the corpses and held his glowing staff over them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“These are the White Wargs spawn.” Bilbo offered. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It meant nothing to the Dwarves, but apparently Gandalf understood based on the sharp look he sent their Halfling. But Bilbo wasn’t looking back at him. He was gazing into the forest, a considering frown on his face. Thorin was doing his best to focus on him and not Oin doctoring his side, and so he caught the tear that slid down one cheek. He nearly said something, but as always someone spoke over him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We need to get somewhere safe, somewhere this can actually be properly seen to!” Oin slapped a hand against Thorin's ribs, startling a loud groan from between his teeth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo nodded sharply once, chewing at the edge of his thumb. “I know somewhere close by, with the ponies we can make it by morn.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stiffly walked away, ignoring the others calling his name and Gandalf's mutterings in that strange language. On any other day Thorin would have demanded an answer, but nausea was starting to make itself known and all he really wanted to do was sit down. So instead they followed the Halfling, just praying to make it to safety. </span>
</p>
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